


At Last

by DC_Fitzpatrick



Category: Sense and Sensibility (1995), Sense and Sensibility - All Media Types, Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Romantic Fluff, Sex, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 41,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27565021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DC_Fitzpatrick/pseuds/DC_Fitzpatrick
Summary: How would Colonel Brandon and Marianne Dashwood meet and develop their relationship were it set in modern times?
Relationships: Colonel Brandon/Marianne Dashwood, Elinor Dashwood/Edward Ferrars, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 255
Kudos: 161





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again, all! Mr. Brandon has spoken to me once more (yay!) and we're back with something set in more recent times. Haha. Sans pandemic.  
> I would like to thank Brandie for reccomending a story on FF.net which is set in modern times and inspired me a bit. The story is "If Only Could" by Gillingham. You will see some aspects here that are like the ones there, like Mrs. Jennings being an Adele (because isn't she?? I thought it was SOOO fitting!) and a Brandon businessman. Streamsofstoriesandcolour also gave me incetive in the comments of my last Brandon/Marianne story to write them in modern times. Thank you both! I hope you guys come back to read this one!
> 
> Special thanks also to my dear friend Carlos, who does not give a fuck about fanfiction (not a single one), but has graciously endured my babbling, and even read my first Colonel stories (just up until the sex began lol), and is having to endure my babbling through this one because he shares the Colonel's profession here. XD
> 
> And I hope all of you enjoy! I tried to keep some plot elements of the original story and only adapt, but you know, things get out of hand sometimes, plot bunnies and all. Hehehe. 
> 
> I would like also to let you know that at first it might feel more like an Elinor/Brandon thing, as they are more interactive, but I assure you it's not. It's just how it came to me, so have patience please! Thank you, enjoy! I hope this one works well like the last ones :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not quite as far along as I wished it was before I started posting, but I got to the point where I started to think maybe I shouldn't even post it at all, so I had to hurry and post before I gave it up. lol. I have about 14 chapters and more ideas, but we might go through some rough patches like we did in the last one, with regards to the muse and posting regularly. But I got that one finished and by God I will finish this one too. XD  
> Hope you enjoy :)

Elinor Dashwood was sat at her desk. It was mid-afternoon on a very bright day, the type that caused the fancy office building in which she worked, all made of mirrored glass, to shine to the point of blinding someone who saw it from afar. It was a quiet afternoon as well, not many calls coming in, she thought. And then the phone rang.

“Structures and Skylines, John Middleton's office, how may I be of service?” There was a pause as she listened to what the other person on the line had to say. “I'm afraid Mr. Middleton cannot take a phone call right now, he's in a meeting. May I take a message?” Elinor typed something onto the computer. “Yes, very well. Thank you, goodbye.” She hung up and pulled the headset off, and went back to thinking about what a nice day it was.

She had been very lucky to have found this job. It was very much needed since their father had died, all those months ago. He was an excellent father and husband, head of the family. He had worked hard to get to where he was, to give them a good life. But he unfortunately was not that good at planning, at thinking ahead. So, when he had passed, there was no house that actually belonged to them, no savings account or any sort of investment or fund, and Elinor and her two sisters, along with their mother – who had always been a housewife – were left to live solely on their mother’s not so great widow’s pension. She couldn’t really blame her father though. It had been so sudden, and he was still young, no one would have thought...

But luckily, she had found this job not long after his death. They had sold many items in their household, fancy furniture that wouldn’t fit wherever they would have to move into, and her father’s company had been generous enough to pay his full salary for another month still. They saved that and made the best of what they could with it all, and it lasted double the time it would when he was alive. And now this job complemented her mother's pension very well. They could live off that, though not as comfortably as they had before, but certainly with dignity.

Elinor had always dreamed of working in one of these Central London posh buildings, though she wouldn’t have chosen the position she now occupied, a sort of receptionist/secretary/personal assistant. Still, here she was, working at a very well-established firm, prestigious, known internationally even. And the people were so nice despite the pressures of deadlines that came with this sort of job. Even her superiors were nice. It was a good, healthy environment to be in. Plus, she was working in close proximity to something she loved.

As she sat at her desk, her mind distractedly wandering, her eyes suddenly focused on the man that approached in the distance. She had a somewhat clear view through to the other wing of that floor, and the man happened to come from that side, down the clean and modernly decorated corridor and offices, all done in shades of white, gray and some black. He passed a few desks and office doors, and gave everyone he passed by a small nod of the head or a shy tug of the lips.

He looked elegant, as always, in a light gray three-piece suit – though the jacket was left behind in his office – a light-blue shirt underneath his impeccably pressed vest, and a tie in a darker shade of blue. As he passed under the skylight that lit the lobby in between both wings, his dirty-blonde hair shone brightly in the sunlight.

He continued his walk, not too rushed, but not a stroll either, nodding to all who said hello to him. When he was closer to his destination, which Elinor knew to be her desk, he took out his double-hunter pocket watch with the hand that did not hold the tube containing blueprints and floor plans, and flipped it open with his thumb to look at the time. He then closed it and pocketed it, eyes forward, to take his hand to his full head hair and adjust the lock that had come forward at his forehead as he looked down to the watch.

Though he seemed to be only a few years younger than her father was... had been, Elinor could not deny he was somewhat dashing. He was quite nice too. There were days, days when he was not pressed for time, when he would inquire about her day, herself, and they would have a very pleasant little conversation. He didn’t really have to do it, she was merely a secretary, but it was just in his nature it seemed. She observed all this, his qualities, with no malice. It could be no other way. Her heart still belonged to... someone else. Perhaps it always would, as tacky and old-fashioned as that may sound.

“Miss Dashwood,” he said when he approached. His voice was something to be noted as well. A velvety tone to it, always low and calm and so polite. “Good afternoon. Is John in?” he asked, as if he didn’t own half the blasted place and could walk into wherever he damn well pleased.

“Yes, Mr. Brandon, he is expecting you.” She indicated the door, as if saying _go right ahead._

One corner of his lips tugged up in a half smile. “Thank you, Miss Dashwood.” His eyes were soft, kind. But if you were exposed to them constantly as Elinor had been for the past couple of months, and if you were sensitive enough to notice and interpret, you could see there was some sadness in them. Loneliness. All kept deep inside, beneath some walls that were probably build up as defense.

He walked past her desk and pushed the door behind it open, only to close it behind him.

“Brandon! I was just on the phone with Adele,” John held up his cell phone as if Brandon could see Adele had been on the other end, “and we thought it would be great if you came to dinner on Friday night, what do you say?” He pointed to the chair across from his for Brandon to sit.

Christopher knew the glint in John’s eyes all too well. “That depends, John. If I am being invited to dine with your family, I would be honored. But if this is yet another attempt at a blind date for me, I would rather stay at home if it’s all the same to you.” He did not speak harshly, and that sweet little curl of one corner of his lips only attested to his kindness. But the habit John and his mother-in-law, Adele Jennings, had of trying to find him someone was getting to be annoying. Christopher never saw a mother and son-in-law so united and majestically getting along. And their goal in life seemed to be seeing Christopher Brandon with a woman on his arm.

“Come now, Brandon, you need to find someone. It’s been long enough. By god, man!”

“John, I am not pining for anyone. I promise you that. I have promised so before. I just don’t appreciate dating for the sake of dating. I am not looking for meaningless flings, a long string of nobodies to warm my bed.” He had decided long ago that was disgusting and pointless, and only made his... loneliness sting more once it came to its unavoidable end. “All you achieve with these setups of yours is making two people very uncomfortable, John. Though your intentions are wonderful.”

“So you're saying I only know atrocious women, is that it?” John asked in a playful manner.

“No. They are all lovely, very suitable and proper ladies.”

“But...?”

“But they don’t hold my interest. And they notice it and get angry or disappointed because they were promised a date to get there, and their expectations get crushed though I try to be a perfect gentleman in spite of my discomfort.”

John looked at him more seriously. “How will you meet _the one_ if you don't meet _anyone_ , Brandon?”

Christopher honestly did not want to meet anyone. He did not believe there was anyone out there for him anymore. “You gave it almost 20 years, John,” he smiled in his shy manner. “That’s a formidable effort.” They had met in the army, in Afghanistan, and though John was older, his Superior Officer, they got along great. John had helped him a lot, saved his life probably. And these attempts had been going on since... well, a little while after that. “I’m fine, really. Stop your worrying. Now, we need to review these plans.” Christopher stood and headed to the long table meant for meetings at the other side of the large corner office.

He rolled the large plans he had been holding open on the table as John came from his desk to look.

“This,” Brandon pointed to a spot on the large blueprints as he leaned over them, “won’t work, John. Your people have to redo it.”

John was in charge of the architecture half of the company, in accordance to his formation. Brandon took care of the engineering, the part that made the projects actually work and got them off the paper. Brandon proceeded to explaining from his point of view how that part of the structure would present problems in building. John saw it immediately.

“Well, this will take a while to figure out.”

“We cannot afford a while. This is a government contract, we are in a tight schedule.”

“We have to come up with better directions than ‘fix it’ to pass down. Maybe that way it won't take too long,” John said.

They both looked down at the plans in silence for a while.

“I see I will be needing coffee for this.” John went to his desk and pressed a button on the landline. “Elinor, could you come in here for a moment please?”

“Yes, Mr. Middleton? Sir...” She said shyly as she pushed the door open not a minute later.

The man was actually a Sir and Elinor never quite knew how she should address him. It made her kind of nervous. Why were these titles still given out anyway at this day in age? But the cheerful and good-hearted John Middleton always smiled at her nervousness and confusion.

“Would you be so kind as to make us a cup of coffee? I hate to bother you with this, it’s not in your job description, but I can’t for the life of me figure these fancy new coffee machines out, with its capsules and buttons...” He looked at the sideboard against one of the windows where said machine lay. Two walls of the room were actually all window, top to bottom, end to end. “I promise I will get a good old coffee maker in here, with the paper filters, and then I’ll be able to make my own damned coffee.”

Elinor smiled warmly. She always had to make her father coffee as well, and he had the same complaints, going on a little rant every time about why did they have to make new things up when the old ones worked just fine. She really didn't mind making Mr. Middleton his coffee. It warmed her heart and reminded her of her father. “It's no problem, Mr. Middleton.” She was still smiling. “Mr. Brandon, how do you take your coffee?”

Christopher looked up from the blueprints he had been concentrating on all this while. “Oh, none for me, thank you Miss Dashwood.” His smile was soft and polite, as usual.

As Elinor made the coffee and the machine hissed, Christopher and John bent themselves over the papers again, discussing some technical things. Elinor listened as the coffee machine hissed. She then handed Sir John his coffee and laid eyes on the floorplans and blueprints, and couldn’t help but stopping to look at them with interest, fixedly. She then hummed as if understanding had filled her. Christopher exchanged a look with John, and then they both looked at Elinor.

“Something you would like to share, Elinor?” John asked.

She blushed as she realized what she had done and was mortified. “Oh no, I couldn't, I'm sorry...”

“No, no, have at it! An idea is an idea, might get us rolling, heh? Don't mind the technical terms, we can pencil that in later.” John was smiling warmly, and Brandon also had an open and welcoming look about him, ready to listen.

“Well... I just thought maybe…” and she proceeded to point out what she had seen, all in technical terms, and all correct, presenting them with the solution within minutes.

Sir John looked pleasantly amazed. He had started this just to be polite, really, but the girl knew what she was talking about. “My God, Elinor, why have you been hiding this talent? Have we been working you too hard? Are you around these things so very much that you’ve picked up on all the lingo?” He was genuinely interested. If she did pick things up that easily, surely she was wasted at the position she occupied now.

“Oh no, no. I love working here. It’s a great place to work, no overworking. I have... actually had training in architecture, it was my major at University.”

“Then why did you apply for a job as my assistant? Certainly we have more suitable positions for your training! You have an eye for it, that's for sure.” John was now excited.

“Uhm…I did not finish,” Elinor said timidly. “I had to... put that on hold for now.”

They both, Brandon and John, looked at her with curious eyes, as if they would like more explanation.

“My father passed recently, and we couldn’t afford tuition, not for both me and my younger sister. So instead I got a job to help out.” She felt responsible as the eldest child. She had to help her mother. Marianne’s major was simpler. Elinor would still need to finish University, have specialization courses, and it was more time and more money, whereas Marianne could find a good job with just the three years of University, God willing, and help pay the loans they had to take out. Besides, Elinor had taken long enough to figure out what she wanted to do, had been to art school and counted on her father’s generosity and patience for longer than Marianne. So Elinor’s education could be figured out later. It was bad enough Margaret had to transfer schools and leave all her friends behind.

“My condolences,” Brandon wished sincerely.

“That is unfortunate,” John started, “but you are extremely talented, have an eye for the business. Hopefully soon you'll get back to it, heh?”

Always smiling and cheerful, Sir John, trying to see the bright side of things. Elinor smiled timidly and nodded. “Yes. May I get you anything else?”

“No, no, that will be all, thank you.”

“Thank you, Miss Dashwood,” Brandon said softly before she left the room to them. “The girl saved us hours of going through this, John. She spotted it in a minute,” he then continued.

“Yes, yes. She has much potential.”

“ _Much_ potential. We could use someone like that in our staff.”

“Hmmm.” John was looking out the window, lost in thoughts. “Brandon old man, I may have had an idea.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy!

It was two days later that Elinor saw Mr. Brandon heading her way again, all the way from his wing of the top floor offices, nice but reserved as always with all who bid him hello. This time he wore a dark-gray suit, his vest double-breasted, and a white shirt and black tie with elegant patterns, meticulously tucked into said vest. The chain of the double hunter gold pocket watch hung visible from his pocket to a button on his vest. He carried nothing but himself, elegantly as always.

Elinor was not warned by Sir John to expect his business partner today, but her boss _was_ in, she knew. And he was not in a meeting or call.

“Good afternoon, Miss Dashwood. John is expecting me.”

“Yes, go right ahead, Mr. Brandon,” she smiled. As if she could contradict the owner of half the damned place.

“You should come in as well.” He was smiling softly and like the gentleman he was, he waited for her to stand, and guided her to walk to the door in front of him, but he pushed the door for her to go inside before he did.

“Oh, thank you,” she turned back to say shyly as she entered. She was baffled, nervous as to why her presence was needed.

“Elinor, come in, come in,” Sir John said cheerfully, rising from his seat. “Brandon, did you tell her what this is about?”

“Not yet, no.”

Elinor looked nervously from one to the other and plucked up the courage to speak. “If this is about my impertinence the other day, I am truly sorry, I did not mean to overstep...” She really needed this job, and a good job it was.

“Impertinence?” Sir John started, surprised. “No, no child, you helped us is what you did! A lot!”

“Yes, Miss Dashwood, you saved us time and money by quickly identifying the problem. We owe you gratitude.”

“Never apologize for talent!” John said. “And that you clearly have.”

“The topic at hand does concern that, though.” Brandon leaned on the front edge of John’s desk as he spoke, and pointed to a chair before him for her to sit, “...but not in a negative light. At least I hope not.” He looked over to John, coming around the other side of his desk. Brandon sported his small, soft smile.

“Yes, yes. Brandon and I have talked, and we would like to... invest in you is a good way to put it I think.”

Elinor still look baffled, lost.

“We have found the university you attended and asked for your records...”

“And mighty good records they are!” John exclaimed.

“... And we know you are short a year of your studies, not counting specializations. We, the company, would like to pay for your full education, the year you have left and a specialization of your choosing.”

Elinor gasped, taking her hand to cover her lips. They trembled lightly.

“While you conclude your education, you would work here part-time as an intern, work properly in your area, with the corresponding pay.”

“Heh?” John asked after she was silent for a moment. “What do you say?”

“I... That is very generous, _very_ generous, but I could never pay you back!” The family would have Marianne’s loans as it was.

“You will pay in your excellent work!” John said. “We would have Legal draw up a little contract that ensures you work with us exclusively for a period of time, say... the same amount of time it takes you to finish the studies?”

Elinor still looked at them, from one to the other, incredulous.

“Come now, working here for three years or so can't be that bad!”

“No, no, this is a wonderful place in which to work.”

“Then?”

“Are you... are you sure?”

“Yes we're bloody sure!” John said cheerfully. “We can't have talent like yours wasted!”

Brandon just smiled in his contained manner and nodded once.

“Then yes, I accept,” Elinor smiled.

“Great! We will get the paperwork started and you can start this coming semester. In fact, have a day off this week and enroll, choose your classes and whatnot, and give them our card when tuition comes into play.”

Elinor was all smiles, shaking their hands. The amount of gratitude that filled her was impossible to describe.

“In the two weeks or so we have until you start the semester, I ask that you help me interview a proper assistant such as yourself.”

“Thank you, thank you so much, Mr. Middleton, Mr. Brandon. Oh, Mama won't even believe this!”

“We have an office party on Friday evening to celebrate the government contract we have landed. You should come and bring your family. We would like to meet them,” Brandon said.

“Brilliant idea, yes!” John exclaimed.

“Wouldn't that be intrusive?” Elinor asked.

“Not at all! All employees’ families come to these shindigs,” John guaranteed.

“I just have one request,” Brandon said, serious. Elinor stopped to listen. “Would you consider changing major to engineering?” He then smiled coyly, and Elinor laughed softly.

Elinor arrived home excited to tell her family about what had happened. She entered the modest three-bedroom house they managed to rent and announced herself.

“In here,” Marianne called from the kitchen where she was setting the small round table. Eleanor passed Margaret, sat at a little desk pushed against a window in the living room, doing her homework.

“Come on Margaret,” let’s go have dinner, Elinor called. Margaret stood, huffing with a bit of teenage attitude Elinor had learned to ignore. It wasn’t that long ago she was a teenager herself – or so she liked to think, ignoring the fact nearly a decade separated her from her youngest sister – and she knew it was hard. She didn't even have to go through it with the pain of having lost her father.

“How was school today?”

“Horrible as usual,” Margaret huffed. “That school is full of dimwits and bullies.”

“Now, now, I'm sure you found one person you enjoy hanging out with?” Elinor said as they entered the kitchen.

Margaret shrugged as she picked up silverware to set beside the plates Marianne had set. “There’s this one girl who isn’t a complete waste of air.”

“I know you miss Emma and Melanie, but that doesn't mean you can't have new friends as well,” Elinor said in a consoling voice.

“Those bitches can go get bent.”

“Margaret! Language!” Mrs. Dashwood berated, very alarmed.

It's true. They haven't spoken to me properly in months, so screw the snobbish bitches.”

“Margaret!”

“Okay then...” Elinor said in an attempt to calm everyone’s nerves. “Marianne, how was your day?”

“I share Margaret’s sentiments today. My classes only have dimwits. Idiots the load of them!” Marianne had taken some classes during the break in an attempt to try to get ahead. She too had taken time off after school, but unlike Elinor, who had an art diploma to show for it, she had nothing. That needed to be corrected.

Marianne studied French translation. But, lover of languages as she was, she got some extra credit on other languages, mainly Italian. She really had a knack for them, learned them fast.

“So, everyone in Britain is a dimwitted fool is what I gather,” Elinor said playfully.

“Yes! Both her sisters replied in unison as they all sat down to dinner. Their mother just smiled and shook her head at their bad mood as she brought over the lasagna to the table.

As the Dashwoods served themselves, Amelia started. “Elinor, speaking of friends, Edward called today.”

“What?” Eleanor was unable to hide her surprise.

“You forgot your phone. It was ringing incessantly and when I saw it was Edward, I answered the poor lad. Did I not do right?”

“No, Mama, that’s fine,” Elinor smiled softly. Her alarm was not because her mother had answered her phone, not at all. Teenagers were the ones who got offended with that and Elinor was long past that. Her alarm was that Edward had called.

They had been friends for the better part of their teens and early adulthood, living in the same neighborhood and going to the same school. Their fathers were great friends, and they became that as well. But what Mrs. Dashwood and all the Dashwoods ignored – perhaps not as much as Elinor thought – was that for many years now, she had seen him in a much different light than before, and had been, in fact, in love with him. He had but one ill quality it seemed, and that was being too much of a pushover by his mother. And his mother, though never openly treating Eleanor badly per se, made it quite clear in a veiled and snobbish sort of manner that she thought less of Elinor. That was due to the fact that the Dashwoods did not come from money. Henry Dashwood had worked very hard to get to a place where his family could live in such a neighborhood as the one the Ferrars lived in, and so his daughters could go to such expensive schools. The Ferrars however, came from money. And that did make the Dashwoods a bit less in the Ferrars’ – and many of the other neighbors’ – eyes. Elinor had never felt such things from Edward though.

Nonetheless, there was a Lucy Steele that was a part of their circle and that Mrs. Ferrars had quite favored. When they were younger, Edward could not stand her and he and Elinor would discreetly make fun of her airheaded and shallow ways. She however grew and filled up in all the right places, becoming voluptuous in a way that attracted any man – Edward included. That along with the fact she would flaunt it, show her body, and dated a string of rugged men of course made her even more desirable. The challenge of getting her to notice _him_ had started to attract Edward, who in his shy and modest way had begun to try and woo her, with encouragement of his mother of course. And the beautiful, but in a less obvious and flaunting way, and modest Elinor was fated to be the great friend he would pour his heart out to, her feelings cast aside, unknown and unwanted, unimportant.

And once her father passed and she had to move away, she had not heard of him anymore. She did not go looking either. He was already in some sort of relationship with Lucy by then, she sensed it, and he did not talk of it because they wanted to keep it a secret in its early stages, and maybe later to respect Eleanor’s mourning. So if she went looking, she would only be heartbroken to find the confirmation of this, perhaps learn it had developed and bloomed into so much more, something serious, set in stone.

And in addition to that, she found some shame in their situation in life now. She feared letting him know it, see it. What if he judged her, pitied her, made her the butt of his jokes with Lucy? The thing that would hurt the most, in truth, would be learning he was nothing like what she thought she knew, like the man she loved, and that she had been a fool all along. The fact he had not talked to her in over 6 months seemed to hint at that already.

“And how is he?” Elinor tried to sound indifferent as she cut a piece of her lasagna.

“He said he misses us.”

“Us.” Margaret followed that by a snort. “Right.”

“Margaret! What does that mean?” Elinor asked, a bit outraged.

“Nothing, nothing,” Margaret said cheekily, placing a piece of dinner in her mouth.

“You should not... presume things that are untrue!” Elinor was getting exasperated and could not control it.

“Okay,” Margaret said in an unfazed and irritating way teenagers seemed to master. Marianne just sniggered. It was funny when you weren’t the object of it.

“Anyway,” Mrs. Dashwood continued before things got out of hand, “he asked for our address, said he would pop by next week.”

“What? Really?” Elinor asked, really nervous now. He would come here and see how far they had fallen. Oh dear God. What if he brought Lucy? She was in the circle, a friend as well, and it could be presumed that Elinor would want to see her... And them being together would make her accompanying him a given. “Oh Mama, I really wish you would have... perhaps it would be better to meet him elsewhere?”

“Oh, so now you are ashamed of us, of where we live?” Mrs. Dashwood suddenly looked like she could cry at any moment.

“No, of course not Mama, no. Forget I said anything.” She caressed her mother's hand on the table. “Anyway, I have some news!”

She proceeded to telling them what had happened, and how her bosses wanted to pay for her education and she had work guaranteed for a time to come, God willing.

“That is wonderful, Elinor! Oh my! You so deserve this! I am so happy you will be able to continue studying and doing what you love!” Mrs. Dashwood got emotional and teary. “I am so sorry it was not I who was able to give it to you, but I thank the Heavens that such nice people were put in your path.”

“Oh mama! Calm yourself! It’s happy news, don’t be like this.” Elinor caressed her shoulders, as did Margaret who sat on the other side of her.

“My goodness! They must be exquisitely kind gentlemen!” Marianne remarked once her sister had recounted her little tale.

“They are.” Elinor smiled. “You'll all be able to meet them on Friday at the office party you are all invited to.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm a bit late with this one. Work has been insane. INSANE.   
> Hope you enjoy this, and in case I only get to post next weekend, a Merry Christmas to all, and Happy Holidays!

Elinor took more than one day to work out her enrollment and schedule in university, and of course the issue with the tuition wasn’t as simple as presenting the company card, as Sir John seemed to think. Brandon knew of course that would be the case. John had a kind heart and a cheerful way about him – astonishing as it was, having been in the war and having seen what he had seen – but he was somewhat out of touch with reality in the sense that he expected things to be simple and mundane most of the time, and need not his involvement. Perhaps his slight impatience with certain things fueled that as well. He was older, with a wife that pampered and doted on him – as he did her, in different ways of course – and who had been a superior officer in the Royal Army for half his life. His family also never had lacked influence. So, he was accustomed to having things done for him, those he considered simple especially.

But Brandon knew this, and didn't bother him. John had been good to him in the army, in his times of need, and had helped build this business, which was now all Brandon had to show for his life, along with a medal or two. Knowing this, Brandon had talked to Miss Dashwood further, and set a proper time and date on which he could accompany her to the university and settle such issues. There were papers to be dealt with, many phone conversations and fact checking to be had, in addition to the fact that Elinor very much wanted to please her benefactors, and so asked for guidance in regards as to in what areas the company could be lacking, so that she could take extra credit in them and perhaps be of further aid than the average intern or trainee – and later on, proper employee, she hoped.

All of this kept Christopher and Elinor in close contact for the week, having lunches, exchanging messages, sorting everything out. So much so that they were on a first name basis now, and Elinor did not feel at all strange about calling her boss so intimately as Christopher. He wasn't her direct boss anyway, and would never be. She would work more under Sir John and the people that worked under _him_.

Christopher, despite the relatively short time they had truly spent together, seemed like an invaluable friend to have already. It made her pleased that the constant loneliness she had noticed in his eyes since she had started to work at Structures and Skylines and came into contact with him seemed to fade, if only slightly. He always did have business lunches and meetings that she knew of, but she could see how everyone treating him as the boss, and his somewhat shy and guarded manner would not really help such bustle be constituted as not being lonely.

But she seemed to feel a strong friendly connection to him, and tried to respectfully start conversations that varied from the business they needed to take care of. She went as far as to joke about a very rigid and even rude type that saw them at the university. Realizing what she had done and who she was with, her heart froze down in the pits of her stomach, but then he chuckled and relief filled her, and it was the start of a beautiful – yet very respectful and not so completely open – friendship, not just a boss-employee or benefactor/charity case situation.

Marianne had heard of this Christopher Brandon every day for the week now and was intrigued. He seemed like a nice and lovely man to be doing all of this for her sister, a virtual stranger, but she couldn’t quite figure out if her sister had feelings for him that ran deeper than friendship.

“Do you fancy him?” She finally asked on Wednesday evening as they lay in their shared room. Margaret had happily taken the smaller room as to not have to share, and Elinor and Marianne shared the larger one, though they would each sleep with their mother as well, once or twice a week. She still felt very lonely and missed their father, so she asked them to. Margaret, for all her teenage angst and impatience, snuck to her mother's room sometimes as well, they knew.

“Are you going to be those women who shag the boss and are talked about all over the office?” Marianne was smiling teasingly.

“My God, Marianne, no! He is a perfect gentleman who helped me figure these University things out again. I wasn’t sure how to go about it when... the person paying is not your family or yourself. It’s not even a person really. It’s the company.”

“Hmmm.” Marianne let it out with some snark.

“Marianne! Honest, I feel nothing of the sort for him, nor he for me, I am sure beyond a doubt. I think we’ve developed a sort of friendship. I like it. He has many interesting views, very intelligent. Seems a bit lonely though, poor lad.”

“What's the story there?”

“I don't know.”

“Ask him! Aren’t you supposed to be _friends_?” Marianne was still teasing.

“We aren't _such_ close friends.”

Marianne’s doubts were cleared though on Thursday. Elinor came home after work to find Edward sat at their living room, chatting with her family. She paled all of a sudden as if every drop of blood had evaded her body, and her jaw was slightly dropped, as if some word wanted to escape her but her throat was too dry to manage it. Marianne smiled to herself. No, no, her sister clearly fancied Edward Ferrars still. There was no other in her heart, it was quite obvious.

“Elinor!” He rose from where he sat and went to where she stood. He seemed awkward, nervous himself, though the nice friendly chat he had had with the other Dashwoods seemed to have soothed him. Even Margaret liked him, and he talked to her with delight in his eyes, even though she was a baby still when they had first met, and was about 12 years younger than him. Most men his age wouldn’t find anything interesting to talk about with someone her age, but he enjoyed it, genuinely.

Edward embraced Elinor and she held her hands up away from his body for a moment as she looked a bit horrified. But it was only for a split second. As he lightly snuggled her neck, she seemed to melt in his arms, her face relaxing, looking like she might actually shed a tear as her hands rested on his back.

Marianne watched with an amused smile. She personally thought Edward was a bit bland and safe, lacking passion and excitement maybe, but if her sister, always so together and composed, could become so anxious and utterly lost in his presence, then well, all the best to them. Such a shame neither seemed to realize they might work together and take some steps to make it happen. It made Marianne want to bang their heads together right there.

“Edward, you will be joining us for dinner, yes?” Mrs. Dashwood said, cutting what already seemed like the longest hug in history short.

Marianne berated her mother with a stern look, and Mrs. Dashwood shrugged. She thought she was helping, inviting him to dinner.

“I wouldn't want to inconvenience you,” Edward said shyly.

“Oh no, it’s no inconvenience at all! Margaret, Marianne come help me get dinner going as Elinor and Edward catch up. We’ve hogged him long enough.” Mrs. Dashwood smiled.

Margaret followed her mother out of the room, past Edward and Elinor, the first of which was heading back to his seat. Marianne followed her younger sister close behind, a cheeky smile on her lips, but Elinor grabbed her hand.

“For the love of God, stay here with me,” she pleaded in a whisper.

Marianne looked at her, puzzled, and saw nerves taking Elinor over completely. “Mama, I'll be there in a second,” she called out and sat back down to give her sister some emotional support.

“How have you been?” Elinor asked, blurted out more like.

“Well, well... You?”

“As well as can be expected, you know,” Elinor replied timidly.

“I’m... I’m sorry I did not... contact you sooner, I didn’t… I..” Edward ran his hands nervously through his hair. “I’m really rubbish at…”

“It's fine, Edward,” Elinor cut his despair short. “How... How’s Lucy?” She might as well get what ached her heart out of the way instead of fretting the whole night through every word that came out of his mouth could be about Lucy and a slap to her face and hopes out of nowhere.

“I... I'm not sure, she should be fine.”

Elinor looked slightly baffled. Luckily, Marianne was aware of all the gossip that had been going around before they had left the neighborhood, and which one would be cause for distress to Elinor.

“I thought you were an item now,” Marianne mentioned matter-of-factly.

Edward turned his head rapidly from gazing at Elinor to look at Marianne in surprise. “No. No. I haven’t in fact talked to her in quite some time.”

Relief flooded Elinor and could be seen on her face.

“Oh, I'm sorry that didn't work out then,” Marianne said, but smiling despite her attempts to make her face match her words. The brief wordless nod was enough to indicate there had indeed been something there indeed and that possibly he regretted it. And for her cheek and courage in finding out what her sister needed to know, Elinor could just kiss Marianne.

“Well, Edward, would you like something to drink? Elinor?” Marianne broke the silence yet again. “No? Well I’m parched. Excuse me,” she said and left them quickly alone to catch up, in hopes that now that some things had been cleared up they would both get somewhere.

But alas, it seemed that with two daughters aiding her, Mrs. Dashwood got dinner ready quite quickly. The time they had had to themselves served to make Elinor and Edward comfortable with one another once again. When Marianne was tasked with getting them to the table, she saw they laughed together and talked with more ease. But still they sat across from one another, not cozy as Marianne would have hoped. Perhaps dinner should have taken longer.

They had a pleasant meal, and soon after, Edward parted, with many thanks and the promise to be in touch more often and stop by once again.

“You should have jumped him while you were alone,” Marianne said once the girls were in their room.

“Marianne!”

“Who are you trying to kid, Elinor? You love him.”

“That... I do not, that is not true. I... do admire him, esteem him maybe, and hold him in very high regard, but that does not mean...”

“My god, Elinor, stop it! Do not use such insipid words with me. I see what he does to you, though only God knows why he of all people does that to you...”

“Marianne!”

“Don’t deny it, Elinor. And do something about it already! You both are so slow I might grow old and die before you finally get to snog like you both so obviously want to.”

“Marianne!” Elinor blushed.

“Honestly, Elinor, you look like you’re the younger sister, blushing like a virgin. Just go for it already. Send him a naughty text right now. I’ll go sleep with Mama if you want the privacy.”

“Marianne, you are insane,” Elinor said as she turned her back to her sister in her bed and clicked her bedside lamp off. “Good night.” She could not harbor the hope that Edward fancied her, no, that would just bring her disappointment and heartache. She needed to get over this, him, and not ruin the great friendship they had.

Marianne was just laughing at how uncomfortable she could make her sister as she sank down in her own bed. “Good night.”

Friday night brought the office party at Structures and Skylines. The Dashwoods were all excited for a fancy night out once again, including Margaret. Their tight budget meant there weren’t many nights out anymore, as did the lack of friends now that most of the old ones had conveniently lost touch. And they were still mourning, sad, angry and hadn’t put much energy into making true new ones.

They weren't as nervous as one might expect for a fancy evening out. There had been plenty of evenings such as this one at Mr. Dashwood’s old company. They knew how to behave and how to handle the types that might be encountered, and knowing the owners’ attitudes towards Elinor made them sure they could only encounter good things. Most importantly, they all still had the fancy clothes, and would not be out of place at all.

Christopher Brandon held a glass of scotch and observed the party. People mingled, laughed, talked and ate, drank, had fun. Soft music played in the background, but he knew that once he and John left and/or the booze and low inhibitions kicked in, there would be some serious fun to be had.

Christopher didn't much like to drink, but he knew that if he didn't do it, it would just look like the he was there to patrol and control, and the shier ones would not loosen up. So, he usually nursed the same glass of scotch for the better part of the night. He mingled, made rounds, but also had the sense to not force himself too much on anyone’s conversation and let them be. He had just been talking to a couple of the project managers and their significant others, but excused himself to get something to eat and top off his scotch – which was only halfway through – and came to stand alone in a corner for a moment, taking a breather. Mrs. Jennings, John’s mother-in-law, found him.

“Oh, Christopher, have you seen Ada?”

Christopher looked around for his business partner’s wife. “Not for a while, no, Adele.”

“What are you doing alone here in a corner? Come now, I'm sure we can find some nice woman for you to mingle with.” Apparently, Adele Jennings had wanted to take someone to set Christopher up with but John had stopped her, heeding his friend’s plea for the first time in years. Besides, it would be tasteless to do so at an office party where he was the boss.

“No, no Adele, I’m quite fine,” he smiled timidly and looked around for John with more effort, trying to save himself from being put on the spot. He finally saw him, accompanied by his wife, Ada. They were welcoming Elinor, who seemed to have just arrived.

“Oh look, there’s Ada,” Christopher pointed discreetly towards the reception hall where the Middletons stood. He hoped Adele would focus on that information, go talk to her daughter, and forget about making him mingle. Elinor was shaking Ada’s hand, all smiles, and introduced an older lady, certainly her mother. And then Christopher spotted _her_.

Forward came a creature whose beauty seemed to light up the whole room, and also his heart. Never had he seen a beauty comparable to hers. She wore a long-sleeved burgundy dress, cut just over the knees. It hugged her body well, exposed cleavage, but not in a cheap or tasteless way. Her hair fell in perfect blonde, almost reddish locks, down to the top of her shoulder blades. And then she smiled as she shook John's hand, then Ada's, and Christopher smiled as well, inadvertently.

Adele noticed her words were falling on deaf ears and that Christopher was fixatedly looking elsewhere. And then, before she could turn around and find where he was looking to exactly, he opened a wide smile, the kind she had not seen in so long – and she had known him for quite some time now. She immediately turned to follow his gaze, brows knitted, and watched with interest as John approached with four ladies she had never met.

They were being taken to meet the other partner, the one Marianne had heard so much about. She saw a blonde man standing elegantly in a corner, to where they headed. One could say he was even charming. He wore a three-piece suit, black with thin white stripes, a burgundy tie and a white shirt. It wasn’t hip fashion, but she supposed for working at a place like this it was adequate.

“Is that him?” She asked Elinor in hushed tones as they walked further behind the group.

“Yes.”

“Oh Elinor, he's not that old. What is he, 40?”

“I never said he was ancient, dear, that was your assumption.”

“Well, when you say ‘an older man’ who owns a damn company, old geezers like the ones who worked with Dad do automatically come to mind!” Like John Middleton, really.

“Shhhh!” Elinor said, snickering a bit.

“He’s charming even. It wouldn’t be disgusting to shag him. I take that back.”

“Marianne! Behave!” Her sister berated in a whisper.

“Brandon,” John finally called out when they approached, “come and meet the lovely Dashwoods. This is Amelia, the matriarch.”

Brandon shook her hand with a shy smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“This is Marianne. She has quite the knack for languages, she certainly speaks better French than you!” John laughed.

“I have no doubt she does,” Brandon said, looking fixedly into her eyes. His eyes shone like they never had before, and his shy smile had something extra to it. Even Elinor, who hadn’t known him for that long, noticed.

“ _Enchanté de faire votre connaissance, mademoiselle_ ,” he uttered before taking her soft hand in his, and raising it to his lips.

John, Adele and Ada exchanged surprised yet discreet looks. For all the women they had set him up with, they had never, ever seen him show such interest, and so naturally.

Marianne's cheeks flushed bright red, almost matching her attire. And his tie. “ _Moi aussi, je.suis enchantée_.”

“You are absolutely right, John, her French is flawless.” Brandon smiled.

“And this is young Margaret.”

Brandon took her hand and bowed down to kiss it as well, to mask his interest a bit perhaps, since he could not control his impulse to feel Marianne’s soft skin against his lips. “Pleasure,” she smiled.

Margaret smiled and blushed as well.

Everyone quickly arranged themselves, after a few minutes of generalized small talk, and by chance, Marianne and Christopher were left alone. John had taken Elinor to mingle with what was to be her team once she started her internship, and Adele, Ada and Amelia had figured out that Adele’s other daughter, Charlotte, was married to one of Henry Dashwood’s former workmates, a Mr. Palmer, and they had had constant contact, even if they hadn’t become friends or intimate exactly. Therefore, the ladies had become fast friends and fell to the side in their own little conversation, which Margaret had taken part of for lack of choice. She was too abashed to talk to Mr. Brandon, for she had found him quite charming.

So Christopher held his scotch, looking at Marianne, smitten.

“So... what do you do, Marianne? May I call you Marianne?” He was pretty sure she was just one or two years younger than Elinor – which wasn’t appropriate, still – but it was best to ascertain she was not closer to young Margaret’s age instead before making a complete and utter fool of himself.

“Yes, you may. I major in languages in university, primarily the French language, and that is all I do for now. I just study. Tutor some kids in French sometimes.”

Good. So she was old enough to not make him a complete pervert. But he was getting very much ahead of himself.

“Marvelous. Can I get you a drink then?” He asked, smiling in jest. “Champagne?”

Marianne sniggered. “Yes, thank you.”

A waiter passed by and he took a glass, then handed it to her.

“So, what do you intend on doing with that degree?”

“Mr. Brandon, you are not one of those fancy people with important diplomas who think I am wasting my intelligence and capabilities with my choice in major, are you?” She asked in a bit of a playful, sweet tone, but there was some annoyance in there. “I have heard that many a time from my mother’s acquaintances, that I should have chosen something that will give me a dignified living and means.”

“First, please call me Christopher,” he said softly. “Despite my advanced age, I hear Mr. Brandon and I still look over my shoulder for my father,” he smiled.

She sniggered. “Very well, Christopher.” He wasn't _her_ boss.

“Second, you are certainly intelligent enough to know what utter ludicrously such people speak, and to not pay them any mind. I assure you I asked out of genuine interest and ignorance on the area, not as a way to berate or demean you at all.” He had a serious, sincere look about him, looking deep into her eyes. He had beautiful hazel-green eyes, and their depth and feeling touched her to the core.

“Forgive my untactful ways, it’s just I have dealt with such opinions for many a time and...” She sighed. She should stop her temper and stop presuming things.

“I understand, and I'm far from offended.” He smiled, a small, contained smile. She seemed a bit feisty and strong-minded. She seemed more interesting and attractive at every turn. “Now, if you would educate me...”

“Well, one can teach the language, or teach English as a second language to native speakers of French... but that does not attract me. My true interest lies in translation.”

“Ah, very interesting indeed. And you said you studied French _primarily_. What else do you study?”

“I consider myself decently versed in Italian as well. But really, I just have a love for all languages and would like to learn them all if possible.” She smiled. “I have taken Portuguese classes as well, when there was money to spare for that,” she was not ashamed of saying it. He knew the situation. He was paying for her sister's education now. “And now I have been playing a bit with those silly apps on your phone that teach you something. I’ve been trying German.”

“A tough one to master, I am told.” He sipped his drink. “I shall have to practice some with you sometime.”

“French?”

“Yes. Though that is the one I am most fluent in. My travels and business around the world have made me pick up bits and pieces here and there, which makes me quite dreadful at everything, I imagine.”

Marianne laughed, and he was quite content in having caused that wonderful sound to escape her lips. This was wrong. She was too young, and certainly had a boyfriend, or many who were interested and she could choose from, so beautiful and intelligent as she was. He did not stand a chance. But he felt at ease as he spoke to her, and his heart beat light in felicity that she was enduring him and did not run off to find someone more interesting to talk to. He would indulge in this for this evening, for as long as she would suffer him. He deserved at least that, one evening of sweet, innocent joy, did he not? He would probably rarely have the chance to see her again anyhow. And oddly, his heart tightened in despair at that very thought.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello!  
> Hope you all had a nice and happy Christmas.  
> Here's a chapter, hope you enjoy.

Foolish as it may seem, Christopher Brandon could not take his mind off Marianne Dashwood over the weekend. He had had the fortune of her company for a good portion of the evening on Friday. Though there were people more than age for her there, they all more or less had their set group of acquaintances and family they had brought, and she seemed shy to go mingle. Or he had been more of a possessive old fool than he knew himself to be and had hogged her company unbeknownst to him. She was sweet in nature, though also feisty when a subject was dear to her, and of formidable intelligence. Her beauty needed no comment, for it was obvious to all who had eyes.

What was best was that despite the age difference and how lively she seemed, requiring someone just as lively who surely was not him, she seemed to have enjoyed his company. Perhaps it was wishful thinking and she was just extremely polite, hiding her burden and boredom well. He had not had such an interest in lady for... so long. It was riveting, yet unnerving at the same time. He must put it out of his mind. She was too young. She certainly must already have interest in someone her own age. He had no chance. Yet, his mind did not let him forget, and his heart beat fast at the memory of her smile.

Marianne could not lie, she had enjoyed conversation with Christopher. They seem to have connected, and he was so interested in what she had to say. It was a rare thing nowadays when people seem to be more interested in themselves or be on their phones always, and only make half-hearted connections. He had a very intelligent mind, of course, and was so kind. He probably had many riveting stories to tell. She hoped she would be present in more occasions to which he would go as well, but her thoughts were faint, almost inconsequential, when compared to those of Christopher. She acknowledged he was a good, interesting man, and that Elinor was lucky to work at such a place, but if she never had the fortune to be in his presence again, she did not think it would make much difference in her life.

The week began, as did Elinor's classes, so she started the part-time internship where she actually worked in her field. She couldn't be happier. Christopher of course, being the gentleman he was, visited her in her department to see if all was going well. He needed to go there anyway, for she was placed on a team that saw to the government contract she had helped figure out and fix, but he need not take the time to speak to her. He only really needed to see the manager and head of the team.

But Christopher had enjoyed Elinor’s company, gotten used to it even. He hoped they had developed a friendship and that she didn’t just endure him because he was more or less her boss. So yes, he wanted to know how things were going, if she was well. But what he wanted most was to know about her sister, any and everything he could, find a way to meet her again. Like a bloody fool, as if he were half his real age, he wanted to know if she had said something about him. He refrained from asking such questions or probing for the answers though, for his dignity’s sake and to avoid Elinor's discomfort.

Come Wednesday, his willpower weakened. He asked Elinor out for lunch. In truth, he only waited until Wednesday to allow her time to get acquainted and accepted in her team, bond with them and not be singled out as the boss’ pet or something. Christopher had half a mind to ask Elinor to intervene in his cause, make a bridge between him and her sister, but that would be very uncomfortable for her. She could even presume that her job and the payment of her tuition depended on such a favor, and he most certainly did not want that. He had to be patient. Being too eager could also put him in an awkward position, to be seen in a bad light. He had to find a way to calm his heart and stop being an utter fool. _The girl probably didn’t give you a second thought. And why should she?_

He forced calm and level-headedness into him. He decided it was best to keep such feelings to himself. He was probably getting ahead of himself, letting the years of loneliness get the best of him finally. It was nothing. It couldn’t be, after one simple encounter. Should Elinor speak of Marianne, he would absorb every information gladly. But he would not force himself. It was to be if it was to be, they would meet again.

So he met Elinor at the reception of the top floor when she clocked out and they made their way down together. She had to be in class soon, so they wouldn’t take long. He would like to know how she had fallen back into the study and classes routine.

“Has it been hard on you? Slipping back into the student dynamics after all these months?” It was asked while they were alone in the lift.

“Oh no, no it has been exciting! In truth, it is nice to finally have something to occupy my mind other than worries and sorrow.”

Brandon gave her a small smile. “It is, is it not?”

He said it as if he truly meant it, as if he had been through something similar. She then remembered he spent more time at the company than Sir John did – not that the latter did not do his share of work. But Brandon seemed... much more invested. Perhaps it was what he had dove into after something happened to him. Could he have lost someone? Perhaps she could get to know him further during lunch... or maybe that was too forward and would be ill interpreted.

“Do you have a preference for lunch?” He asked.

“No, not at all.” It would be rude to impose her taste – which lately was simply somewhere cheap – when he had invited her. “I am not a picky eater, surely you have noticed...”

But she had lost him, his attention, as soon as they had stepped out onto the pavement. He looked fixedly to something, and his face had obviously lit up though he still maintained his professional posture to a casual onlooker. But whatever he stared at, held his attention completely. He might even be holding his breath.

Elinor followed his gaze, amused, and at the end of it she met none other than Marianne, casually standing there, checking her phone. It seemed Christopher Brandon was really smitten by her sister. It worried her. Not due to her boss. Despite the age difference, she knew him to be nothing but respectable and kind, a good man, and the jokes she had caught sir John making with him told her he was unattached, as did the loneliness she had always noticed in his eyes. No, what worried her was Marianne. She could be a bit thick at times, and stubborn, and even rude once she got a certain idea into her head. If she found him to be... anything but to her liking, she would make it clear, and her mind wasn't so easily changed.

“Marianne!” She called. The young woman looked up and started walking to them with a smile.

The most stunning sight he had ever seen, it certainly was. She seemed to have a light of her own as she walked over in her blue denims, a light-pink jumper, boots, her golden curls loosely tied back as she put her phone into her side bag. Her smile lit up that gray, cold London day. His heart beat fast in excitement that he was granted the chance to see her again, and warmed him up completely, making the overcoat he wore over his customary three-piece suit seem a bit much.

“What are you doing here, dearest? Did something happen?”

“Hello to you too, Elinor,” Marianne said in jest. “Christopher, nice to see you again,” she smiled.

He took her hand she offered and instead of shaking it, he bowed down to press his lips to it softly. He only regretted that her soft skin was covered in gloves, as were his hands, in black leather ones. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Marianne.”

Marianne smiled coyly and her cheeks turned pink. It wasn’t due to the cold.

“I texted you, Elinor, I thought maybe we could have lunch before we got to class?”

“Oh dearest, I haven't checked my phone in a while, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. I see you have a business lunch, we can do it some other time.”

“It is not...” Christopher started, trying to contain his excitement and despair as she made to turn away, “a business lunch. You are welcome to join us.”

Marianne considered that for a moment.

“Or, if I am to intrude in sisterly business so rudely, I can leave it you to it.” He gave a small smile, a touch of disappointment in his eyes.

“Don't be silly, you wouldn't intrude in anything,” Elinor jumped to say.

“If anything, I am the intruder,” Marianne thankfully said. Elinor breathed in relief.

Christopher’s smile broadened. “Then shall we?” He pointed for the ladies to go ahead of him.

Marianne looked down at herself. “Weren’t you going somewhere fancy? I am not really dressed for that.” She sounded dismayed, embarrassed even.

“Nonsense. You look lovely,” Christopher said, making her blush as his hazel eyes softly admired her with sincerity.

They did end up going to a posh restaurant. Christopher was taken by the need to impress and treat her properly. It wasn’t so incredibly expensive that it would be deemed snobbish of him to go there, though.

Elinor was making a bit more and could splurge once, so she wasn’t too worried about the suggestion. Marianne though was counting on Elinor to help her with the check, since she was hoping they would go for a simple burger.

But once they sat down and the waiter came with the menus, Christopher was quick to discreetly hand him his credit card and inform that any consumption of the table was to be charged to it.

“Christopher, that was not necessary, I...” Elinor started, but he raised a hand dismissively.

“It was my invitation, my treat. You'll get the next one,” he smiled. But his eyes were more focused on Marianne than on his newly found friend.

Elinor nodded in agreement and Marianne smiled shyly at his kindness and gentlemanly ways.

Conversation picked up, mostly between the sisters, but never excluding Brandon, of course. But he was quite happy in listening to them, absorbing every little piece of information that he could on Marianne especially. He often spoke up only to ask for more details on something Marianne had said, encourage her to reveal more of her day that far, her feelings, her views.

Inevitably, the conversation would revert to the company and Elinor, which of course would involve Brandon more closely. But he never let it linger on him for too long, skillfully turning it around to focus on the ladies, Marianne especially if he could.

Elinor watched their interactions with amusement, not at all bothered that she was frequently left aside. There was a glint in her boss' eyes that was quite noticeable to someone who had cared to observe him before. He seemed less guarded, less restrained in his ways, though he still held himself quite respectfully and elegantly, as a man of his status should. But his interest in Marianne was undeniable, and the delight he felt in her presence, unconcealable.

The fact that Marianne responded to him quite naturally and honestly, not feigning interest or forcing politeness and respect as she did in similar settings when their father was alive, to his co-workers and business partners in functions they needed to attend, was also very telling. These two shared an energy, a connection that could be felt by those around them, if sensitive enough to take notice. It felt light and good, and made Elinor smile. She silently began to cheer them on. How lovely it would be if they hit it off. She felt sure that they could be very happy together, and that Marianne’s romantic propensities could be fulfilled flawlessly. She had not known Christopher for that long, but she knew her sister had a capability of loving immensely and devoting herself to someone completely, despite the sometimes hard shell she displayed. So she could too fill the void Elinor had suspicions that inhabited her boss' heart.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit late. But I have good excuse. I've been working on the first smut of this lovely couple. And it's been hard (no pun intended). I was excited about it, now I think it's a bit rubbish, and I'm still halfway through. Well, you'll see in the future.

It was late evening and Elinor and Marianne were already in bed. They had work and classes, respectively, early in the morning, so going to bed early seemed like a good idea, but the case was always that they talked for at least an hour when one wasn't due to sleep in their mother’s room.

“It was really nice of Christopher to endure me intruding in your lunch today. I really should have had more sense than to just show up when you didn't text back.”

“He's a nice man,” Elinor said with a smile, “and I doubt he thought it was an intrusion or that he was unhappy with it.”

Marianne didn’t quite understand the subtle hint. “I can see why you liked him and talked about him so much. Though it was rather foolish of me to think you were interested in him as more than a friend or an employer.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, he is kind and pleasant and all, even to look at, but doesn't seem like the type to... stir things deep down in you, if you know what I mean.” Marianne smiled slyly.

“Oh Marianne. For shame!”

“He seems too sedate and polite. A bit of pushing you against the wall and just...” Marianne growled, “could go a long way as well, sometimes.”

Elinor shook her head, a small smile on her lips. “Tsk tsk, Marianne. I would expect _you_ to know better than to judge a book by its cover. I would wager that with the right incentive from the right woman, he could be the sort to make one... growl.”

Elinor was decided to do what she could to help nudge them closer together. They could fit really nicely. But it had to be in a discreet fashion. Both seemed likely to scare easy, but where Christopher would just be shy and discouraged, Marianne would definitely be stubborn and rude, trying to push it all away. She liked to think she was making her own decisions with no help of anyone, no influence from another's view, and tended to push everything that was offered to her away, resisted, even if it sat plain as day in front of her as the obvious right choice.

“Yes, it benefits you to think that. You fancy Edward after all and I've seen boiling water that looked more exciting than he does,” Marianne teased.

“Marianne!!” Elinor berated.

“No offense, dear sister! He is very nice and decent and I do like him, and shall love him once he is family...”

“Marianne! There is no such...”

Marianne cut in “... but I do hope for your sake that the right time and proper woman statement is true.” Marianne was smiling.

“There is no possibility... He wasn't even talking to me! He just stopped by to be polite, I wager we never hear of him again. And Lucy...”

“They have nothing, he said so himself!”

“Probably just a lover’s spat that will get resolved soon enough.” It was not proper to allow one's heart to hope, only to be inevitably crushed as it had been before, repeatedly.

“I don't think...”

“We should sleep, Marianne,” Elinor said a bit brusquely. She was avoiding tears as she remembered how she had loved him so dearly and was only treated like one of the guys, and not even an especially good friend since she was not missed for 6 months. “He won't be coming by anytime soon and I best just forget all this foolishness of mine,” she ended on a softer note, picking up her phone to set an alarm.

It then rang in her palm.

Marianne watched her staring at the screen with eyes the size of saucers.

“What is it, Elinor?”

“It's... It's Edward.” She showed her the screen of the ringing phone, a sweet picture of him smiling at her lens shaking on it, a picture taken in a light-hearted moment of the past, before death had played their lives.

“Well pick it up, stupid!” Marianne berated, exasperated.

Elinor swiped the screen and pressed the device to her ear. “Hello?”

Marianne watched, excited, as Elinor listened nervously and answered with a few words here or there. “Tomorrow? Okay... Yes. Right. See you then.” She then hung up.

“So...?” Marianne asked.

“We are to meet at the mall tomorrow evening.”

“Ha! I should have taken your stupid bet. ‘I wager we will never see him again...’” Marianne repeated in a mocking nasal tone. “I would have some sweet lunch money for tomorrow.”

“You have to go with me!”

“What?! I will not be a third wheel!”

“Please, Marianne, I beseech you! I think the whole gang is going, and I am so embarrassed, they have all just dropped off the face of the Earth and now... Oh God I'm so nervous.”

“Did he mention anything about anyone else going?”

“No, but... It's a mall, Marianne! And never has he invited me to go anywhere alone! Oh God, what if he's with Lucy again already? Or some other chit? Oh... I might die...” Elinor's hand was shaking as she covered her lips and stared into nothing.

“Oh dear God, Elinor, calm down! I'll go with you, don't work yourself into a heart attack. Now take a deep breath and go to sleep.”

But of course she couldn't.

***

Marianne walked around the mall extremely ticked off. It had been as she had imagined: Edward was the only one to go and surely he had intended for Elinor to go alone as well. Nothing of a group gathering. She wasn't really at an age for that sort of silliness anymore. That sounded like something Margaret would set up with friends of hers. Edward didn't help, the poor thick bastard, instead of properly inviting her to a date, picking her up, he rang her with a ‘meet me at the mall.’

Still, Elinor would not let her wander away from them. The nervousness on that girl was not of this world. Marianne hoped that when she found someone suitable for her, she wouldn't be this thick, like both of these idiots were, hindering their own success and happiness. But love seemed to make one stupid.

So they walked around, talking about nothing in particular – yet Marianne was mostly left out of the conversation – and then they had something to eat. Then they resumed their walking around. If they suggested a movie, Marianne would make her escape from them in the dark and see if such a scenario would encourage them to go further. Perhaps Marianne should propose going to the cinema herself.

She walked around beside them, arms folded over her chest, looking around at nothing in particular when she noticed that silence hung over the two of them. Perhaps the cinema suggestion would come in handy now.

Edward broke the silence, though. “Elinor, I would like to... I have been a complete and utter fool, and I hope you can forgive me.”

Was this it? Had he finally gathered the courage to say what Marianne thought he wanted to say?

“I am deeply sorry for...not contacting you these past few months. I kept waiting and hoping you would, but of course it should have been me, you had so much on your mind, and well, I was probably the one who had most interest in doing so. I...” He stopped walking and turned to Elinor. Marianne hung back a bit, but still in hearing range. “I’m quite rubbish at this…” he scratched his forehead and ran his fingers through his hair. “I've missed you terribly. And your absence in my life has made me realize... my feelings for you...”

That was Marianne’s cue. “Oh look, a shoe sale!” And she swiftly disappeared down an adjacent corridor, taking cover among the large group of people that passed by before Elinor could hold her back in her immense child-like stupidity when it came to her feelings for Edward. From a bit afar, Marianne could still see them, and she saw Elinor did look back to try and stop her, but Edward had caught both her hands in his, forcing her eyes to fix on his before they could find out where her sister had gone.

Marianne smiled, very pleased, internally rooting for all to go well. She turned abruptly to go find something to look at in a window and crashed into a tall gentleman in a navy-blue suit. She got lost for a moment in the lovely scent of his perfume but was quick to regain her balance, his hand on her shoulder aided her in that, and utter “I’m so sorry, sir.”

“Marianne?” It was a familiar voice that uttered her name, but she couldn't place it on the spot yet. She quickly looked up to see Christopher Brandon’s face towering over hers, soft hazel eyes and a gentle half smile gracing his lips. Of course. That molten chocolate, velvety voice could only be his. She had never heard another like it.

“Oh hello!” She smiled, surprised, and just her smile was enough to warm his heart. “Forgive my clumsiness, I was...”

She noticed he carried a bag from a fancy shop for male clothing. He was always very elegantly dressed, she had to give him that, especially for the fashion nowadays. Even now he sported the three-piece suit fashion she had seen him in both times they met under his overcoat. He had probably come straight from work.

“Nothing to forgive. It's a pleasure running into you.”

She just blushed and smiled coyly. She didn’t know why she felt so weird around him. He was just being perfectly nice, a gentleman as he would. Still the things he said always gave her something of butterflies in her stomach. If he were younger, she would think he was gently coming onto her. That was obviously not the case though.

“What brings you to the mall?” She stupidly asked, searching for polite conversation.

“I need for a few items in my wardrobe.” He smiled and lifted the paper bag he held. “You?” His heart squeezed at the thought that this could be when he met a boyfriend of hers, a love interest, and the dreams his mind had been discreetly building somewhere in the back, without his consent but that so intensely encompassed him already, would shatter and break his feeble hopeful heart.

“Oh I'm just... walking around with my sister and a friend, nothing important.”

“So Elinor is here?”

“Yes, somewhere in that direction,” she pointed to the general area behind her without looking back. “I walked a bit too fast I guess.”

“Hmmmm.” He looked towards that direction and just nodded, a bit unimpressed.

Well that was that, the conversation had died a quick death. “I should go find her,” Marianne said as a means of goodbye as he observed her, his free hand in his trouser pocket.

“I think... you might want to give her some time,” he said, smiling softly again. “She seems a bit... engaged at the moment.”

Marianne knitted her brows and at him in wonder, then finally turned on her heels to find Elinor. She was where Marianne had left her and Edward, and they had their arms wrapped around each other, their lips locked. Marianne smiled widely, so happy for her sister.

“May I buy you something to eat while you wait? Keep you company?”

“Oh thank you for the kind offer, but I already ate with those two,” she said, her wide smile turning to him now. That made him not feel discouraged by her refusal, so he pressed on.

“Some tea or coffee then? With a cookie or perhaps a doughnut?” He smiled because he felt silly. He knew how to woo a woman better than this. Or did he? It had been so long since he had had the interest to do so. And she... she was so young. He wasn't sure if his... demeanor and ways would impress her.

She considered him for a moment, then smiled coyly. “I accept your company, but you will not pay for my nourishment again. You've already done that this week... twice!”

He smiled. “Fair enough.” He did not wish to be overbearing or insinuate she could not pay for things, that is why he did not insist. But he already had a small need in his heart that encouraged him to take care of her and do whatever he could for her, and he could certainly do this. He made a decent living, very decent, and had nothing to spend it on, no one to share it with, no one to dote on. And so he wished to do it for her. It gave earning a good living some meaning.

He pointed her gently towards a stand where they could get their tea and sweets that he knew for a fact to be delicious. She led the way and he walked close behind, exhilarated that he had managed to secure this time with her without openly revealing his developing feelings for her. He would feel better doing so after he had had time to try and woo her, win her affections. Or perhaps the blow would be even harder when she refused him if he waited too long. She would know him better by then, and not being able to find anything in him that would please her would be very hard on him indeed.

She ordered first, a cup of tea and a large cookie, and paid for herself, and he too ordered some soothing tea and a sweet to nibble on. Perhaps tonight it would be effective, the tea, and he would have a good night's sleep, though he hadn't even had dinner yet.

From where they sat in the tables beneath the escalators, they could still glimpse Elinor and Edward. They had found a little bench amidst some decorative shrubbery to sit, where they had some privacy, and they talked a bit, but words were few when compared to the affection that they displayed by constantly uniting their lips. Marianne smiled as she saw them.

“How embarrassed do you think Elinor will be when I tell her that her boss saw her snogging?” Marianne said with a cheeky smile before biting on her cookie and looking at Christopher.

“Oh don't tease her,” Christopher said softly, the corner of his lips turning up slightly.

“But I must! It is my duty as a sister,” Marianne smiled. “Surely you understand.”

“Actually, I do not fully understand, being an only child myself. But I can appreciate the sentiment, yes,” he smiled, having eyes only for her while she divided her attention between him and peaking towards her sister.

“Forgive my silliness. I am just happy they are finally on the same page. There has been a bit of a history there. I was wondering if it would ever happen or if Elinor would just have to live with a broken heart for a while until someone else came along, and everything would have been for nothing. All the feeling and hope and dreaming…” Marianne sighed. “Seems like such a waste.”

Brandon smiled as he recognized something of a romantic soul in her, due to her words and a sort of longing in her eyes as well, as she gazed towards her sister. Perhaps his old-fashioned ways could have some effect on her after all.

“It's nice to know things like this do happen in real life, not just in films or books.” She finally looked back at him and saw him listening intently, a softness in his eyes and a smile on his lips. “Forgive me, I'm babbling of girly, stupid things.” She laughed softly to try and conceal her abashment.

“It's not stupid at all. I do understand where you are coming from. Life... can be spirit breaking, sometimes, and to witness such perfect, rounded out solutions can... restore some of our spirit and faith. Bonus points for having it happen to someone you care deeply for.”

“Exactly,” she smiled, a bit of amazement in her eyes. “For an engineer, you have quite a way with words. I’m the one who is supposed to work with words, and I have expressed myself in a subpar manner.” She laughed. “Oh look, I seem to be back now.”

He chuckled as well. “Never subpar, no. You’ve just been dealing with words all day. There are days in which by the end of them I cannot resolve a grade school math problem even.”

“True, true,” she smiled and sipped her tea.

“Tell me... does that knack for languages come with a wanderlust?”

“Naturally,” she smiled widely.

“And have you been anywhere around the world?”

“Oh no, not yet I'm afraid. Well, we did live briefly in France when I was a child, for one of my father's jobs before he settled at the company he worked for, but he wasn't one to spend money with traveling. He saw it more as a hassle really. So here I sit, educated with only what I look up online.” She smiled, but there was some sadness in her eyes. He could see she genuinely wanted to see new places, see the world, and felt sorrow for not being able to. “Perhaps you could educate me a bit and indulge my travel fantasies.” Her eyes were brighter now, faithful to her smile.

“Absolutely. Just tell me a place you would like to hear about and I will see what I can do.” His smiles were ever tender and sincere, but he rarely showed his teeth in them, still shy, guarded, not quite believing this pleasant exchange was happening. “Since you say I have a way with words, I might do a decent enough job of describing them to make you dream that you are there.” Hope he could take her anywhere, everywhere, sparked in his foolish old heart.

“We can start with the most exotic place you've ever been to.”

Christopher told her of curious findings of his in his travels through little countries of the Orient, but soon managed to turn the conversation to her once more. He had a need to learn everything he could about her. So he asked her what she intended to work in when she graduated, and if she worked in something already.

“Oh, I just tutor some kids who take French in school. And sometimes I managed to get a little, silly translation work here or there,” she said shyly. “My initial goal was to work for a publisher, translating books, or subtitling films and telly shows. I love to read and I love to watch films, so it seemed rather nice to make money off that, doing something I would do anyway, for fun. But now... I'm starting to think that a nice government job translating documents, or perhaps even for the UN, with some stability and a nice, guaranteed paycheck is the way to go.”

He smiled at her. “Nothing wrong with wanting stability and a nice paycheck.” The turn her life took with her father’s death would make her want that, obviously. “They are all excellent choices. Very interesting. I wish you luck in your endeavors and I will let you know if I learn of any openings somewhere.”

“Thank you, that is most kind.”

Tea was done with, and Elinor and Edward were still very cuddly and close.

“Well, that might make for an awkward ride home,” Marianne thought out loud. “I’m going to have to go break them up.” The Dashwoods could not afford two cab rides home, that would be a waste of money, and with the time, Marianne didn’t feel very comfortable taking the bus and then the walk to get home. But as she watched how tender the couple were together, she thought she perhaps should. Could she trust Edward would take Elinor home so she could use the cab money? It would be so mean to break them up now. Perhaps Elinor wouldn't even want to go home tonight, though Marianne did not know her to be like that, so quick.

“Allow me to drop you off at home then,” Christopher said. “Let Elinor stay,” he smiled.

“Oh no need. I can text her warning I'll take the bus.”

“You can as easily text her and warn her I will drop you off. It might make her less nervous and allow her to enjoy herself.” He was glad he thought of such excuses as to not show his eagerness in spending more time with Marianne.

“But... I'm probably nowhere near your way!”

“Where are you headed?” He asked. He did not want to presume she was going home. The possibility of her choosing to head... somewhere else suddenly dawned on him and made his heart freeze. She gave an address, and he recalled it from Elinor's forms at the university. “That is right on my way, yes, I can drop you off.”

She looked at him suspiciously, questioning knitted eyebrows. She very much doubted it was on his way. He probably lived in a posh part of town, _opposite_ her way.

“It is. I insist on accompanying you. Shall we?” It wasn’t. But it was well worth the time he would spend with her.

“Okay. I’ll warn Elinor” she finally conceded.

_Found a nice ride home with your boss._

_Yes, he has seen you snogging. Hehehe. :D_

_Hope for your sake Edward’s snogs feel as good as they look._

_Looks like you were right after all. Have fun._

They headed to the front of the mall and Christopher hailed the cab. Marianne was under the impression he would be driving, and now worried she would have to pay for the cab anyway. He opened the door to the car for her and she got in, something in the back of her mind noticing how chivalrous he was, how unusual that was nowadays. He entered right after her.

Christopher took charge, informing the driver where they were going as he drove off. He and Marianne talked a bit more, coyly now that they weren't alone, but Christopher was satisfied in simply sitting beside her. They arrived at her door and she looked at the meter, reaching for her purse. He covered her hand with his.

“It's on me. I would have paid for it anyway being alone.”

“But...”

“I insist.”

“Okay. Thank you,” she smiled sweetly.

He got out of the car and held the door open for her to exit. He offered his hand to help her out.

“Well, good night, Christopher.”

He still held her hand from helping her out. He fortunately had taken his gloves off in the cab, as had she, and so he brushed his lips against her skin. “Good night, Marianne.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are well!  
> Keep the comments coming, I really like them, even though sometimes I take a while to reply (work, real life, tired, hard.)

Christopher Brandon was ecstatic to have ran into Marianne Dashwood and have had the opportunity to have alone time with her. Each encounter seemed to make him more smitten, and his internal attempts at managing his expectations and feelings, trying to tell himself it was madness to be interested in a girl that was only a few years over half his age were failing. He now walked around with this little fire in his belly, a sense of excitement and hope which he had forgotten how they felt like long ago. It felt good. But the awareness of the growing possibility of heartache was ever present at the back of his mind. He needed to control himself before his heart was broken into a million pieces. The odds for that were greater than anything else.

It was a new week, and he was sitting in his office. He did get work done, but Marianne was always at the back of his mind. He was constantly thinking of what else he wanted to learn about her, things he should have asked. He kicked himself or not having asked for her number, to see if he could develop a deeper relationship with her through texting, a friendship of sorts, to further gauge her interest and gather courage to reveal his. But there was no real reason for him to ask for her number, for an old man to ask for a college girl’s number, other than obvious interest. And it made him feel dirty somehow, although his heart and intentions were somewhat pure, not what society would certainly think if he openly showed his interest. Sure he had managed to become friendly with Elinor, and did even have her number, and she wasn't much older than her sister. But he worked with Elinor and they were thrown together by circumstances somewhat beyond their control. It happened naturally, organically, and he didn't feel like a creep about that, especially because he had no other intentions with Elinor whatsoever, though it was hard to convince John of that. The man's goal in life seemed to be getting Christopher down an aisle in a church somewhere. He was getting the little hints dropped here and there ever since he had started developing this friendship with Elinor.

Elinor _was_ his friend. Well, as friendly as he had ever gotten with any employee, though of course he tried not to show any preference in the workplace, despite her not working directly for him. He did not know though if they were true friends and confidants. That seemed so hard to come by these days, true friends. So much so that he felt he could only call John and his family true friends. The rest were acquaintances at best, and there weren’t many. And it was a rather new relationship with Elinor. The fact he owned the company always left some small doubt in his mind of whether she endured him solely due to that. She didn't show any behavior that would indicate that, but still... He hoped it wasn't the case.

But the fact they were so friendly did mean he would have owe her an explanation, a word of respect. He couldn't just pounce her sister. And her mother, he would have to speak with her mother, for his own conscience if nothing else. Maybe that would convey his true intentions and make everything seem less... tasteless. _You are getting way ahead of yourself. She won't even want you. That is what it all boils down to_.

It was as all these feelings raced through his mind while he reviewed contracts that sat on his desk and felt like a fool for acting – even if internally – like he was an awkward teenager again that he heard a knock on the double doors to his office before one side was pushed open. It was John.

“Brandon! A quick word?”

“Come in, John. What can I do for you?” He asked as he set the papers he looked at aside and closed his computer.

“I've come on orders from Ada and Adele, to issue an invitation.”

“Uh-oh.” Brandon foresaw more matchmaking attempts.

John smiled. “No, no, nothing of the sort. You said you did not want any more blind dates and I will respect that. Adele consented to it as well, though there were fierce protests.” The older man chuckled. “No, this is a simple social invitation, to dine at our house later this week. Adele and Ada were very taken by Mrs. Dashwood and insist on seeing her again, especially since she appears to be acquainted with Charlotte as well. They also want to know more of the bright young girl we are taking under our wings, so to speak. So there will be a dinner, Elinor is to bring her family, and since you too are her benefactor and now a close friend it seems, you are to come as well. What do you say?”

“Splendid,” he said, the thought of seeing Marianne yet again filling his mind and heart. And then it hit him, there could be cause for embarrassment.

“Unless... John, I have told you, I have no interest in Elinor as you seem to think. We merely became more friendly due to my help in her enrollment in school. If this is an attempt at a sort of blind date with her, you can desist my friend. She even has a boyfriend.”

“Don't be so suspicious! You have said you have no interest in her and I believe you! There are no shenanigans of the sort behind this, Brandon.” It was said in truth, at least the part of not wanting to join her him with Elinor. Brandon had gotten that idea from his little hints, and John was happy to let him think that was the case. But John, his wife and her mother had been very aware of his intense interest in Marianne. The way he lit up when he met her at the party. And John had been on his way out to ask him to lunch the day he saw him escorting the ladies to a meal. He was all eyes and smiles for Marianne. It was unheard of, unseen, towards any woman in all the years they had known each other. That information was of course divulged at the Middleton household and the scheme was now to throw _them_ together as much as possible, without Brandon suspecting, so he couldn’t shut them down.

Of course the interest in the Dashwood family was real as well. They had indeed liked the matriarch, Amelia, such a sweet woman who had been through hard times, and they wished to be further acquainted to her. And the thought of financing a young woman's education and having nothing to do with her other than at work seemed to be rather snobbish and... distasteful. It just all fit together rather nicely, all the interests and warm feelings and schemes.

“Very well then, John,” he said, still looking suspicious.

“You will need to persuade Elinor though, it seems. I have already issued the invitation to her, but she seems rather shy about it. Do use your charms and friendship towards her to ensure she comes! And takes her family! _All_ of them. She can take that boyfriend of hers if she wishes to as well, I’m sure Adele would like to see him once I tell her,” John chuckled merrily. “Well, I’ll leave you to your work then.”

He rose from the chair he occupied across from Christopher and headed out. It wasn't much later that his secretary buzzed in. He pressed the button to answer her.

“Yes, Isabella?”

“Miss Elinor Dashwood here to see you.”

“Send her in, please.”

His door opened and a very timid Elinor entered. Her team had sent her, being the intern, to deliver some blueprints from the government project to him. She just lifted the rolls of paper she held and gave him an awkward smile as she squeezed through a half open door.

“Come in, Elinor.” Christopher smiled.

She entered and closed the door behind her. “I just need to drop these off with you, I won't waste any more of your time.” She walked forward in his corner office, which was much like sir John's, all glass windows on two adjacent walls. She walked towards his desk to hand him the blueprints.

“Would you have time to sit for a moment?” He pointed to the chairs across from him.

“Sure.” She sat down but still seemed very self-conscious, unlike he had ever seen her.

“I see Marianne kept true to her word and performed her sisterly duty, as she put it, and teased you.” He showed a very gentle smile on his lips.

Elinor seemed to relax a bit. The notion of her hungry, long overdue snogging with Edward in a public place being seen by her boss was mortifying enough on its own, but of course Marianne made it sound even worse, all in good fun. The fact that she had neglected her sister to the point of she having to get a ride home was also a point of shame, even though her sister, _that_ sister, was well of age. Marianne of course did not pass up the opportunity of stressing that she had only gone to the outing due to Elinor’s begging, and being tossed aside like that was indeed very ill treatment. Marianne hadn't been really offended though.

“Thank you for seeing Marianne home safely,” Elinor said, still blushing.

“It was my pleasure. Really. I hope the gentleman you were with saw you home safely?”

Elinor blushed a darker shade of crimson. “He did, yes.”

“Please don’t be shy, I didn’t mean to intrude, I just worry about your safety as well and felt bad afterwards, about leaving without ascertaining you did have a means of leaving safely. Pay no heed to your sister’s banter, what you do outside these offices is of no concern of mine. Though I do like to think that despite my position here we have come to be friends? Am I too bold in thinking as such? Be candid.”

“No, no,” she was quick to say, “I do consider you a friend of course, Christopher.”

“Good,” he smiled. “Then I must apologize for something and you, as a friend, will forgive me, I hope.”

“What is it?” She looked at him curiously.

“John has encumbered me with the task of reinforcing his invitation to dinner at his house. I was invited as well and he seemed to have had the impression you were... intimidated by the invitation?”

“Well... he is a sir, I wouldn't know...”

“Don't worry about titles. John is very approachable and a jolly sort of fellow and doesn't mind those things at all. And Ada is even sweeter, and has taken a shine to your mother, along with Adele, his mother-in-law. They were quite chatty at the office party.” His smile, though small, was always very sincere and inviting.

“Yes, I heard many great things about them and was sorry to have met them so briefly.”

“It's settled then, you'll come with your whole family?” The hope in his eyes was great, but nothing could tell anyone that a great part of it, the greatest part of it, was hope that he would see Marianne again.

“I will pass on the invitations, but I'm sure we can make it, yes.”

“Good. I will reassure John then.”

“But I don't understand what part requires my forgiveness?”

“Well yes... you certainly had worked long enough with John and had been present in enough of our meetings to notice he and his mother-in-law quite enjoy setting me up on dates?”

Elinor smiled. “Yes.”

“And that I… am uncomfortable with them.”

Her smile morphed into a soft laugh. “Yes.”

“Well then, since we got closer in a rather short period of time, John seemed to have gotten the wrong idea...”

“Oh!”

“And I was afraid such a dinner would be an attempt to... push something in such a direction. The potential for making things quite awkward for both of us led me to insist it was not the case, to dissuade him from his crusade, and in my convincing, to further make my point, I might have mentioned you even had a boyfriend already.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“The good news is the matchmaking efforts are definitely not a goal, and that the invitation was extended to him, Edward, right? The bad news, and the part that requires forgiveness, is that given John and Adele’s fascination with young love and matchmaking, there might be some... jokes and slight... good-natured harassing.” Christopher did look apologetic

Elinor sniggered. “I see. All is forgiven. I do not think Edward will want to join me anyway, he is quite shy, and such occasions are more of his father sort of thing.”

“His absence, I’m afraid, would not hinder the... harassment.” He gave a small upturn of the lips.

“Still, you are forgiven.” She smiled.

“We’ll revise that after the dinner then.”

Elinor laughed softly.

“I look forward to seeing you, all of you, there then,” Christopher finished.

That comment made Elinor remember how enchanted, enamored he seemed of Marianne on both occasions she had the chance to watch. If _she_ could notice, certainly Sir John and his family, who were older acquaintances of Christopher, had too. Elinor then wondered if some matchmaking for this dinner wasn’t a goal in Sir John’s mind after all.


	7. Chapter 7

The Dashwoods were all in a cab heading towards the Middleton home. Mrs. Dashwood in particular was in a bit of a frenzy. There was traffic, and they were caught in it. It would make them late and that simply wouldn't do. What sort of impression would that make? She also begged and berated Margaret over and over to behave. Margaret was very prone to teenage moods and to being unpolite without realizing it, by huffing and rolling her eyes at any and everything.

“I don't understand _why_ we have to go to this. I thought putting up with posh snobbish people in these business dinners would die along with dad,” the teenager uttered, and there was a very thick silence as the older women glared at each other. It still stung to have to think about that particular event in their lives.

“They are nice people, nice enough to be paying for your sister's education, and they wish to get to know us,” Mrs. Dashwood said in a bit of a clipped manner. “It's only natural since they are spending a lot of money on us. Just smile and be pleasant. As you were when... with your father's associates.” The mother was brushing the youngest daughter's clothes off as she spoke, a bit too brusquely perhaps.

The women finally arrived at the given address, and stepping out of the cab, nerves seemed to increase amongst them, in the matriarch especially. They knew it would be a posh house due to the fact it was in Kensington, and due to Sir John's position. But actually laying eyes on the house was more intimidating.

It was a detached house, the whole street a row of them. This one was all white on the outside, unlike the neighboring ones that were done in light-red bricks. It had four apparent floors, and easily held 8 to 10 bedrooms.

They all took deep breaths and stepped through the open gate, closing it behind them since it certainly was open waiting only for them. Elinor rang the doorbell and the door was opened by a maid in a uniform. Right behind her though, came Ada and Adele into the entrance hall, all smiles and cheer, pulling Elinor and then Mrs. Dashwood into an embrace. Back in the dining room stood Sir John and Brandon, hands in their trouser pockets, waiting with a smile each. Christopher in particular, Marianne noticed, looked very dashing in black dress shoes and slacks, and a very nice dark gray turtleneck.

“Oh, I'm so very sorry we are late, there was traffic and...” Mrs. Dashwood started to explain in a hurried, abashed manner as her other daughters were greeted.

“Nonsense, you aren't late at all!” Ada said cheerfully.

“Of course we are, everyone is already here and waiting on us.” They now had all moved out of the entrance hall so the arriving ladies could greet the men.

“ _Everyone_ is here? Most of us live in this house!” Sir John opened a wide smile. “And Brandon lives a short walk away from here. He would take but 15 minutes on a day he was particularly sluggish. Charlotte and Gregory live a little further away, but sadly they could not make it today,” Sir John ended, explaining the Palmers’ absence. They were set to go, so Mrs. Dashwood could get reacquainted to them, but Gregory had a last-minute meeting.

Marianne, who had just been greeted by Sir John with a shake of the hand, his other hand on top of hers, and by Christopher with a gentlemanly brush of the lips on the back of her hand - which this time he extended to all the ladies - looked wide-eyed, surprised, at the more dashing and younger of the men. She _knew_ he wouldn't have to go nowhere near her house that day he took her home from the mall! He in fact lived the complete opposite way.

Christopher seemed to sense the friendly scolding in her eyes as they narrowed a bit, and he made a point of not looking at her at that particular moment – a truly hard feat since her beauty demanded his attention at all times. But instead, he engaged Elinor and their mother in some small talk.

They then all moved out to the ample drawing room, elegantly decorated and yet very warm and homey. Ada and Adele indicated the women sit, and they continued to talk and exchange pleasantries while the men prepare drinks for all, asking what each lady would want. The maid brought a soda for Margaret, and Sir John strategically left Marianne's drink for Brandon to learn what it was to be, make and deliver.

That he did, and by happenstance – or excellent maneuvering on Ada and Adele’s part – there was an empty seat next to Marianne, which he took as he handed her the drink. She sat on a comfortable chair next to one of the doors that led to a balcony which overlooked the back garden. He took the matching chair next to hers.

“So you were going that way, were you? All the way across town?” She wore a cheeky smile and narrowed eyes that berated him in a friendly manner.

Christopher’s smile was sheepish. “Yes, I was.”

Marianne gently narrowed her eyes a touch more. “Right. I _will_ pay you back, sir,” she said playfully.

“I know not what you speak of, madam,” he joined the jest, his heart thumping in joy at the ease they seemed to be falling into. Could it always be this way?

The main conversation revolved now around Mrs. Dashwood, and compliments were made by Mrs. Jennings and Lady Middleton on how well and elegantly she dressed. A good thing all her clothes were well kept, because she would not have the money to dress well and doubted she would manage to impress these people with what she could buy now.

Mrs. Jennings gasped excitedly as a realization hit her while they still talked of clothes. “Oh, I had the merriest of ideas!” She had a boutique, it seemed, only as a pastime really, and could use the help there. And she knew, through John, that the Dashwoods were having a hard time with money since the father passed. “Why don't you come work with me. Part-time at least. I'm always late opening it up, lazy as I am getting out of bed,” Adele chuckled.

Marianne and Elinor exchanged excited looks. It would be good not only because of the extra money, but to elevate their mother's self-esteem and help her take her mind off the pain of losing her beloved husband, her true companion.

“I... I have no work experience,” Amelia said shyly.

“You have everything you need! You dress well and are cordial. You won’t lose your temper with a few snobbish and testy clients, will you?”

“Mama has had much experience enduring the type at Papa's business dinners,” Margaret said.

“Margaret!” Mrs. Dashwood admonished, but everyone else was laughing.

“See, you are perfect. And I would adore your company during the days! It gets rather boring there on the slow days, and it’s not always that Ada can come by and help. The pay most likely will not be all you deserve, but... what do you say?”

Mrs. Dashwood looked to her daughters, who all encouraged her with their looks, and she finally accepted the offer. Cheers broke around the room.

All carried on with the conversation, mostly as a whole group, but there were moments where Brandon was able to detach Marianne from the whole and have a few quiet words with her by himself. Every time that happened and she indulged him with a smile and kindness, his heart seemed to sing in joy.

He noticed though that Margaret wasn’t much participating in anything. So he shifted from the group conversation at the appropriate moment to talk to the girl. He knew what it was like to be left out of a group, or to be the youngest and ignored at a place, having been an only child and the youngest amongst his parents’ friends’ children.

She fidgeted with her phone from time to time, but didn’t seem too busy on it, so Christopher dared interrupt her. He asked basic questions, such as what year she was in school and where she studied. Marianne noticed his interest in Margaret, how polite and kind he was being to this slightly grumpy teenager, trying to get her more comfortable being where she obviously didn’t really want to be. Marianne smiled, especially since she saw Margaret appreciated the effort and enjoyed talking to him. Marianne would later learn Margaret thought Christopher Brandon was ‘very easy on the eyes despite being old’ and quite pleasant to talk to.

But for now, Marianne simply felt the urge to join that conversation. It was not only due to her fear Margaret would be unpleasant and embarrassing – which was always a real possibility – but mostly because she was truly beginning to enjoy conversation with Christopher, to crave it.

“And what do you intend to pursue in college when the time comes? Have you thought about that yet?” She caught the dashing man asking her sister. His blonde and full head of hair had very few gray tendrils that were well hidden by the blonde. They only now caught her eyes. They made him quite sexy, she thought to herself, and then silently berated herself for thinking such weird things.

“I think archeology. I'm fascinated by it, by history, and mainly, I want to travel, to see the world.”

Christopher smiled as he remembered that the older sister he was more interested in by the day also craved to see the world, had that wanderlust. A family trait, perhaps.

“I also wouldn’t mind if the sort of adventures depicted in Indiana Jones were true,” she smiled.

He let out a soft laugh. “And why not something along the lines of International Relations, if you like traveling? Of course that probably would not soothe your adventurous heart completely, I imagine.” Christopher asked her and he was genuinely interested.

“Because that involves dealing with human beings a lot, and politicians. I'm not fond of that idea. I would much prefer to deal with something that has been long dead.”

“Margaret!” Marianne berated, but Christopher was chuckling heartedly.

“I can appreciate the sentiment,” he replied, still smiling softly.

They moved to the dining room, to sit at the table, and as dinner was served and eaten, conversation shifted to Elinor and what she was thinking of University this far, if it was too challenging maintaining studies and the part-time job.

Mrs. Dashwood then asked of the Middleton’s three sons, how they were, what they did. It was reported they couldn’t be there, each for their own reason, involving job, studies or travels that could not be delayed. One was upstairs “cramming” for some wickedly hard test. They would perhaps meet him later.

Christopher was not worried because he knew the boys had their own love interests and would not take Marianne from him, so to speak. Though there was always the possibility they could become enchanted by her and lose interest in the others. It was not hard to do so, become enchanted by her. And their chances of gaining her attention were much greater than his.

“Too bad we couldn't pair them up with your beautiful daughters.”

And then, when Christopher – and Elinor – had let their guard down and were very unsuspecting, Sir John spoke of what they slightly feared could become embarrassing.

“So Elinor, I'm told that there is a young man that inhabits your heart already, heh?”

Christopher blushed discreetly and took a sip of his drink. It was his fault they knew of this. But Elinor - though she had choked on her drink a bit – had expected it and smiled warmly. There was no trouble. Her family all knew she was seeing Edward, of course. They even knew she had been madly in love before she ever owned to it.

“Yes,” she answered timidly.

“And why isn't he here?”

“Oh, he's a bit shy of these sorts of things, meeting new people. I did not want to push him, since he already has many business dinners he is forced to attend. He had a business lunch today, and felt a bit tired.”

“A businessman, is he?”

“More his father, really. He just has a place in the company.”

“Doing what?”

“He’s in charge of the financial area. He has majored in Accounting.”

“Well give us a name, let's see if we know him.”

“Edward Ferrars.”

“Ferrars? Ada, aren't our neighbors in the country Ferrars?”

“Yes, yes, I believe so!”

“Oh, we have to organize something in the country and invite them,” Adele said. “Wouldn't that be merry? Perhaps Charlotte and Gregory could attend this time!”

“Oh I will start organizing immediately, for as soon as the weather allows it!” Ada said. “You’re all invited, of course.”

“And what about you, Marianne. Has any fellow won your heart over? Perhaps we can find you one, heh?” Sir John asked with a little smirk.

Christopher's heart went cold in his chest in expectation of the answer. This could either give him hope or break his heart completely. By fate - or perhaps more by Ada and Adele's meddling - Marianne again sat next to him, and he did not look at her at that particular moment. He would not give any hint of his heart, or put any pressure on her.

Marianne, who had been amused by the harassing of Elinor, suddenly did not find it so funny.

“No,” she said a bit more curtly than she intended, “I'm a rather hard woman to please, sir John, and my heart is very well guarded I'm afraid.”

“A good thing that is, a good thing. That lessens the chances of the wrong lads getting a hold of it. But I wager I know at least one lad that might be the right one,” he said and gave a sly look to Brandon, which only the recipient seemed to see, thankfully. He and Adele, who never missed anything and was in on it all, of course.

As Christopher looked at John pointedly, finally grasping his scheme and silently begging him to stop, he and Adele chuckled.

“Oh yes, I’m sure we can find a nice fellow for you, Marianne,” Adele said, also looking at Christopher and rejoicing and how abashed he looked.

Elinor caught their looks and smiled to herself.

“Thank you, but I’m not interested. I have studies to focus on, and finding a job, before I can think about such things,” Marianne said with an air of superiority. That is what escaped her lips, but her romantic heart in truth longed to be held by the perfect man, as soon as possible. But that seemed to not exist, the perfect man, not her conception of it anyway.

Meanwhile, right next to her, an equally - if not more – lonely, romantic and aching heart beat with the breath of hope, since she had announced her heart was free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovely people. Love your comments, keep 'em coming. I do answer eventually.
> 
> Though I do not want to spoil anything, I feel I need to warn, for the more romantic and easily anguished, like me, that there is some angst coming in the next chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, beautiful people!  
> Just want to let you know that IF I disappear for a fortnight or so, don't be sad. I'll be back. I'm going to stay with some relatives, have some time off work. The trouble is I write everything longhand, and these chapters are in an older notebook I do not want to pack, cause I'm taking the new one to write more. I will very much try to type two chapters before I leave so I can edit and post while there, but I'm not sure I'll be able to. Might take pictures of them and type them there. Anyway, just a heads up, but I very much do NOT want to go AWOL. The good news is that everytime I am there I write quite a lot, so I might come back with more to this story, so... fingers crossed!

Christopher Brandon was filled with hope. Marianne had not a love interest, so the path could be clear for him. She did seem to respond to him quite well. Was it too presumptuous and pretentious of him to think he might have a shot?

Those thoughts, the hope, the yearning, all filled his mind the whole night through. He did not sleep properly. But he woke up resolved to give it a try. At the risk of seeming like an old creep he would... court her. He would never sleep well again if he didn't try. It was not often he felt like this, not at all. He didn't even remember if it had been like this with Eliza. The circumstances of their meeting, their lives back then, his own mind and experiences were different, so it wasn't really fair to compare, but still. This... this was special. He owed it to himself to try.

There was though the little trouble of being proper and respectful in his approach, due to the age difference and the fact he knew her family. He felt foolish for doing it, asking permission to see a grown woman, in the 21st century no less, but he would feel like an outright bastard if he didn't do it. He had to show his intentions were honorable and his feelings pure, which they really were.

He would start with Elinor, expose the situation to her. Perhaps if he gained her support, she would indicate the best way to approach her mother and maybe even the best way to approach, to woo, Marianne. So as he sat in the back seat of the car on his way to the office, he pulled out his phone to text Elinor and secure her company for lunch. He would speak to her then, expose his feelings, and hope for the best.

Elinor agreed to lunch, but she had also agreed on lunch with Marianne already. She smiled to herself at her naughtiness. Perhaps she could play it in a way it would be a casual, honest mistake, and make them sit together for a meal yet again, to see if something came out of it _this time_.

So, when she met Christopher in the lobby at lunchtime, she was all apologies saying she had forgotten Marianne was expecting lunch with her, she was probably already on her way. If he didn't mind waiting for her so Elinor could tell her they would have to reschedule...

“No need. She can join us,” Christopher was quick to offer. Elinor smiled devilishly to herself. The plan was working.

“Are you quite sure? It would be no problem to dismiss her! She has already intruded in a lunch of ours a few days ago,” Elinor smiled.

“It would be... no intrusion at all.” Christopher’s smile was soft. “What I needed to approach with you was not business related, and it certainly can wait if the pleasure of your sister's company as well is the result.” It would _have_ to wait. He wouldn’t forfeit the chance to spend more time with Marianne. Perhaps if he did, he could better assess his chances, even increase them. And by letting glimpses of his feelings slip for her sister and his heart’s interest to see, the talk with Elinor would be less distressing. He dared even dream he could have plans for later, that evening, with Marianne, instead of spending another Friday night alone in his house, with his streaming service.

“All right. She should be here any moment,” Elinor replied.

Christopher waited with bated breath and a thumping heart.

Marianne made her way through the busy streets of central London, heading to her sister's encounter. She was now so very busy with school and work, and took to spending quite a few nights with Edward. He did have his own flat, silence, privacy. Sometimes she spent the whole night, sometimes she would come in late, when Marianne was already sleeping. Marianne missed all the time they had together before. So, lunch with her sister would be a real treat.

But the thought that Christopher might also join them made her feel light on her feet. She found herself thinking that would be so enjoyable, his company. He was quite sweet and dashing. Smart. But she couldn’t let herself go there, no. He was too old for her. And a proper “grown-up”, with money, so much money, and a job and responsibilities...she would have nothing in common with him. Besides, he had none of the qualities she was looking for, not really. She wanted excitement, that rush you feel instantly and you just _know_ right away that the person is the one for you, the one you are meant to be with. Passion, fire, romance. None of which an older man could give her. If he hadn't felt it by now – which seemed obvious due to the fact he was alone, it seemed – then he probably wasn't cut out for that. So why did she feel this flutter in her stomach at the thought of him?

It was with that light step and light head, and with expectation in her belly, that she headed to the office building where Structures and Skylines was located. Just a street to cross and a corner to turn till she could see if perhaps Elinor's boss could be at least seen again.

She stepped down from the pavement and there was just enough time to see a car coming right for her. She froze for a moment, terrified, her brain not functioning properly to tell her feet to move out of the way. The car sped on towards her, and it was so close already. Yet, it seemed like time was moving slowly. She could step back onto the pavement. She could make it. She tried, but she just managed to twist her ankle as she placed only half of her foot back onto the upper ground in her haste. It hurt like hell, and she was going to fall with her ass on the ground and get run over.

But then, she felt strong arms wrap around her waist from behind and pull her back. Suddenly, she was leaning on strong pecs, a breathing in her ear, as she watched the car speed on in front of her, causing a breeze to ruffle her hair.

“Are you all right?” A male voice asked in urgency, turning a stunned Marianne to face him.

She laid eyes on an exquisite specimen, dark curly hair, deep dark eyes, the most enchanting smile. And she felt it. That rush she had been searching for, that immediate tug in her belly. She was made more aware to the man’s strong arms around her then, and they felt magnificent. And so gallant he was, so brave, saving her like that!

“Yes, yes, thank you.” She pulled back from him for the sake of her dignity and found she could not put weight on her foot. She winced and he noticed immediately.

“It looks like you are injured. I'll take you to a hospital,” he held on to her, providing support, and prepared to hail a cab.

“No, it’s not that bad, really,” Marianne said. She noticed she smiled like an idiot and looked at the man dreamily, clutching his muscular arms and trying to walk it off.

“I cannot leave you here like this.”

“I am to meet my sister, it is not far, really. It's fine.”

“Then I shall accompany you there,” the nice man said to her with a gallant smile, and wrapped his arm around her waist to provide support.

Elinor and Christopher still looked on, waiting for Marianne. Elinor was becoming a bit concerned she was taking too long and that she was to ruin her brilliant plan, that she wouldn't come and Elinor and Christopher would end up having lunch alone after all. She looked at her phone every few seconds, and was about to text her sister when they spotted her being supported by a strange man as she limped around the corner. Marianne spotted her sister as well and waved, a wide smile on her lips, her phone in the hand that waved.

Christopher’s heart sank at the sight. It wasn’t only due to worry for her well-being and what could have possibly happened. He suspected that somehow, right there, he had missed his window of opportunity of winning her over.

Both Christopher and Elinor rushed to her as the man sat her on a high ledge of a little garden at the front of the building. As they approached her, the man touched her foot as he was knelt before her, and it seemed like she had only eyes for him, Christopher noticed. Her smile was tender and the look in her eyes, dreamy.

“Marianne, what happened?” Elinor asked, alarmed.

“I distractedly stepped off the pavement in the way of a moving car and managed to sprain my ankle on top of it all. This nice man here was kind enough to save me from being run over.” Her smile grew wider. “And I haven't even asked for your name, how rude of me.”

He looked up from her foot. “John Willoughby, at your service.” His smile too was wide, and it was gallant. It made Marianne giggle and blush. At that, Christopher's heart felt constricted, and breathing seemed like an effort.

“Luckily it is only sprained and not broken,” he now addressed the others - Elinor mostly, as he seemed uncomfortable after laying eyes on Christopher and looking him up and down in a slightly, veiled, snobbish way. “But it is wise to keep her off her feet. I offered taking her to a hospital but she refused.” He looked back at Marianne and his charming smile was again upon her. He was still crouched down in front of her. “Marianne, is it?” He asked

She nodded like an eager school girl.

“I want you...” He took her phone from her hand, gently, and silly as she was at that moment, she allowed it, “…to call me,” he unblocked her phone and typed in his number, calling himself so her number would be saved on his phone as well, “… and tell me how you are faring, okay?” He smiled and winked as he handed her phone back to her. She giggled once again.

And just like that, this young man had acquired a small simple thing Christopher had wanted for a while: her number. By the spark in her eyes as they followed him when he stood, he had acquired so much more as well.

“Is my assistance further needed?” He looked mainly at Christopher now with a sort of unexplained disdain. Christopher wanted to respond but felt that now more than ever it was most certainly not his place.

“No, thank you,” Elinor replied. “We can take it from here.” She smiled, but it wasn’t as warm as her smiles usually were.

“Lovely to make your acquaintance,” he said to all as he stepped back a bit. “Marianne... I'll be waiting for that call.” He smiled at her, this time with some small touch of naughtiness, and once again she blushed and giggled. And he left.

“Oh Elinor, did you see?!” Marianne uttered in excitement.

Elinor was a bit embarrassed, not quite knowing how to proceed. As she sat down beside Marianne, she looked up at her boss, her _friend_ , and the sadness in his eyes that had seemed to abate lately, now seemed deeper as he watched her sister with yearning.

“I did, yes,” she replied a bit stiffly.

“Oh, he seems like such a nice man, does he not?”

“I can't really determine that with less than 5 minutes of acquaintance, Marianne.” Elinor tried to sound playful but was indeed a bit annoyed.

“Oh, but he is. I just know it. There are things we just feel, you know?”

“Right, well, we should concentrate on getting you up and running proper,” Elinor said, trying to make her sister stop her babbling. Every word seemed like a knife to Christopher's chest.

“I... I could take you to the hospital,” Christopher finally found his voice again, shy and grave as it may be. “I have a car at my disposal, we could get there quickly enough.” He pulled out his phone to warn the driver to bring the car around.

“Oh no, there is no need, I'm fine really.” Marianne smiled, but it somehow did not carry the excitement it had for one John Willoughby.

Marianne in truth had only noticed Christopher when he spoke. The odd fuzzy feelings that had made her lightheaded enough to walk in front of a moving car were now forgotten.

“At least let me take you home then. You really shouldn’t put strain on your foot.”

“Christopher, you really don't need to go through the trouble...” Elinor started.

But the car pulled around and the driver got out to open the door for them.

“No trouble at all, the car is already here.” Christopher’s smile was soft, marred with sorrow. He offered his hand and Marianne took it. As she leaned on both her sister and Christopher, she made her way to the car. She got in, then Elinor. Christopher rode up front.

He gave the driver the address, and the man drove off. After some silence in traffic, he could hear Marianne's sweet voice speak again, to her sister, in whispers. The topic was still John Willoughby.

“And he is rather handsome, don't you think?”

Christopher took out his phone and started going through messages in an effort to not hear their conversation. Each word was like a sharp instrument going through him. He seemed so close just this morning. He had felt... like he had never before. But his chance was missed, and it all crashed down on him. And now, the weight of the rubble could be felt on his chest. All for the best, probably. The lad was of an age with her. Christopher Brandon had no business daring to love and be happy, not with such a young, beautiful, bright woman. He had been a fool.

With all his efforts, he couldn't avoid hearing when her phone echoed a ding in the car and she squealed lowly in excitement. It was him, that lad, asking if she had her feet up already or something to that effect.

They arrived at the Dashwood address and Christopher got out to open the door for them. He helped Marianne out, and got lost in her big blue eyes a bit as she thanked him for the ride, an excited smile on her face he knew was not due to him, it wasn’t meant for him. Then Elinor stepped out.

“Christopher, I'm sorry... about lunch,” she started. It was obvious she felt embarrassed.

“No problem,” he said with softness in his eyes and a smile. “We’ll reschedule.” What he had needed to say to her was of importance no longer.

“Thank you, really.” She didn't know what else to say.

“Will you be needing a ride to campus? Perhaps a drive-thru on the way?” He kept the car door open and gesticulated towards it as if he were her humble servant. He would adore some company right now, any company to avoid being alone with his thoughts.

“Oh no, no, I only have classes later. Might as well eat here now.” Elinor still smiled uncomfortably, especially since Marianne's eyes and fingers now seemed permanently glued to the screen of her phone, to which she smiled widely and constantly.

“Well then, a nice weekend to you both,” Christopher bid. Elinor replied but Marianne seemed to not have heard.

Christopher got in the car, in the back. He closed the door and was alone, again, as it had always been, as it seemed like it was meant to be.

“Back to the office?” The driver asked after several moments of silence.

He would get no work done. He wouldn’t have much company either, as people would be busy obviously and he could not impose on them. He might as well go home and start his weekend earlier. To think not an hour ago he had had hopes of actually having the company of a beautiful woman to dine out with him that evening. “No, James. Home, please. Home,” Christopher said, watching the girls walk into their house with a touch of melancholy in his eyes. “Where else?” He mumbled to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I the only one who wants to hug Brandon? Damn, I might be too sensitive... And I fucking wrote this! Lol.


	9. Chapter 9

First thing Monday morning, Elinor went to Christopher's office. She felt horrible for her sister’s behavior, for the resigned sadness in her boss's eyes. She apologized about what happened, about having ditched their lunch on Friday, and asked if they could go that day. Christopher let his lips curl up slightly as he agreed, but his eyes... they had not the shine she noticed had lit them ever since he had met Marianne. And they seemed even more sorrowful than before.

The friends met in the lobby to go to lunch. As they walked to their preferred restaurant, Christopher couldn’t help but ask of Marianne. He was still concerned for her well-being. And perhaps the messaging with her savior had dried down over the weekend and he still had a chance.

“How... fares your sister? How is her foot? Has she accepted proper care? Is it healed?”

“If you mean going to a hospital, she did not. But she did keep it up most of the weekend, and iced it and now insists it is very much healed.” Elinor gave him a half smile.

Marianne had indeed followed those instructions, which had come from her new acquaintance, John Willoughby, who had very quickly become saint Willoughby. He was a personal trainer and a wannabe athlete. He could do or speak no wrong. It was a short acquaintance still, and Elinor really did not wish to judge him already, but she did not like how her sister was acting under his influence. She seemed changed, even if it was just slight nuances. Perhaps Elinor felt as such only because she favored her boss, who had quickly become her dear friend, and his obvious even if untold feelings for her sister. But she couldn't do that. Marianne was the one who had to feel and decide.

“And I assume that regimen was broken only due to her heart’s strong urges?” He tried to sound conversational and uninterested, he shouldn’t really probe like this, but he had to know. Best to know at once, rip it off quickly, like a band-aid.

“Ye... Yes,” Elinor answered shyly.

Marianne had gone for ice cream on Sunday afternoon with the fellow, and she wouldn't be having lunch with her sister on that day, though she would be close by, it seemed. He worked in the area after all.

“Good.” Christopher smiled. “As long as her foot is healed.”

Elinor sensed the sorrow in the air and quickly steered them away from that topic as they reached the restaurant.

It was a nice lunch, they had pleasant conversation. Yet, something was lacking. Her friend was not all there. So much so that when the check came, she managed to pay. His mind had been so disperse that he hadn't arranged for his card to be charged upon arrival as he usually did.

Elinor had lunch with him almost every day that week. Even though he had never divulged his feelings, Elinor felt they were pretty obvious, was almost certain she was right in her assumptions, and she felt it was her duty to try and dissipate the sorrow or frustration he also did not divulge, but that Elinor could see clear as day in his eyes. So she ignored her workmates’ invitations on a couple of days in favor of going with him. It was a slow week for business lunches, and she knew he didn’t much mingle with anyone else in the company. Not that he was snobbish or anything like that, but people did tend to shy away from the big boss man, and he didn’t much like to impose, so people wouldn't think they were being evaluated even in their lunch hours or breaks or time off. Elinor also learned that he did have some friends from school and acquaintances from other environments he frequented, but of course that at his age they were all married with children, and there was not much room for him, as tended to be the case with everyone.

About Marianne, Elinor need not worry. She had shown no interest in having a meal with Elinor that week. Every free moment was occupied by Willoughby. She had only eyes and ears for him, and when they could not be together, she spoke of nothing else. It was as if he were a parasite feeding on her brain. Where she used to be mindful of her family and others, she now seemed rather selfish, not caring to listen to anyone's grievances since _she_ was finally happy. And if you dared speak a word of advice or caution against John Willoughby and how quickly it all seemed to be moving, how Marianne was losing herself in the whirlwind that was the gallant and charming Willoughby, you certainly earned her ill temper for several days. It was always ‘no one wanted her to be happy’, or ‘just because everyone was still miserable grieving for their father they wanted her to be unhappy’. The one Elinor took most most offense over was when she commented something along the lines of just ‘because Elinor and Edward were passionless and took ages to finally commit, it did not mean her relationship was wrong just because there were lively and certain about how they felt for each other’. That was the way with _true_ love, you just _knew_.

The effects this Willoughby person had on Marianne’s behavior and personality were not the only thing that bothered Elinor. He had no interest it seemed in meeting her family. He would arrange for them to meet elsewhere, or simply have the taxi or Uber driver pick her up on campus. When it was inevitable he talk to one of her family members, he was perfectly polite and all, but there was a certain distance he maintained. Those occasions were rare. It made his complete and utter gallantry and infatuation towards Marianne almost seem like an act. Marianne of course saw no problem whatsoever in a man who took much of her time – Elinor suspected she had even cut some of her classes at his request, which was so unlike her – to not have a proper meal and want to get to know her family. ‘We shouldn’t push him. It’s not the 1700s or anything, relax,’ she would say.

It was so very strange behavior for Marianne. The kind, romantic soul Elinor had known for most of her life would love a gentleman who seemed to step out of a Regency novel. She actually wouldn’t – hadn’t – settle for anything less. But now she seemed content with just that, less. Elinor was afraid it was less, far less than what she deserved.

Christopher had been reluctant to have lunch with Elinor every time she asked. What if Marianne were to come? What if he was made to hear things that he could not bear? It sounded childish he knew, but he couldn’t quite come to terms with it all, with what had happened. He had seemed so close, so close to his heart’s desires, and it slipped through his fingers in the blink of an eye. And he did not understand why. Of course that all that mattered was her happiness, he very much wanted that. But it was hard to push his own desire to be happy down again. It had been dormant, forgotten, for almost two decades, and he had learned to live like that. He was well. Content. Resigned to his fate. But Marianne Dashwood had stirred that sleeping part of him, and the hope of finally finding love and happiness had effervesced inside of him. It rose so quickly with the prospect of success. And now... now there was pain to overcome yet again.

After the third lunch though, he felt confident Marianne would no longer make appearances. She had other – bigger and better – things to concern herself with. And Elinor would make no mention of her. Though he hadn't had the chance to expose his feelings and intentions to his friend, he had an inkling she had seen through him and wished to assuage his disappointment. The fact she may know about his foolish notions of having someone half his age be interested in him had made him slightly abashed as well at first.

So it was with surprise that he came down on a Friday afternoon to meet Elinor once again and saw, before he had reached her, that she conversed with a beautiful Marianne, face lit up, blonde curls falling to her shoulders, being blown by a gentle breeze. Beside her was the cause for such brightness on her face, he presumed, a Mr. Willoughby in his jeans and Polo shirt that tightly hugged his muscles.

Would they be joining them for lunch? He would not endure it, he was sure. But he must. _At least you will be in her presence once more, hear her laugh. Just to have her friendship would be... something._

He took a deep breath and stood tall to face his predicament. But just as he took steps towards the group, Marianne walked away, Willoughby’s arm around her as she hugged his waist and laughed. She walked by him and didn't even have a hello for him. He went unnoticed. Perhaps that was how it should have been all along. But that she did not seem to miss him even as a friend, to wait to bit him hello when she knew he worked in this building, when she knew he would be here, well, he could not say it did not pain him further.

After another weekend of loneliness, Christopher was back in his office first thing Monday morning. It was all he had, after all. Work. It was what got him through so much, and it was what currently kept his mind off the lovely creature that had inhabited his dreams since he had met her. It was what kept his hurt heart numb to the pain of thinking that what might have been.

He had a busy week ahead of him. In moments like these, he strived at work, going after clients and contracts like a madman. His work was all he had. His legacy. He did not, could not, allow himself to ponder that there was no one to leave such legacy to, no purpose for all the money he made. The thought had entered his mind of leaving his part of the company to Elinor eventually, if she chose to stay and work there, if their friendship withstood the test of time. It was obvious she was competent, for she showed it every day with her work. And thus it would benefit even if indirectly a woman he cherished. It was madness, but it was an idea to consider further down the line, so none of this would have been for naught.

So he had business lunches, clients to persuade and win over, lined up all week long. He had to keep busy.

Christopher made his way to John’s office, once again with blueprints and contracts they should go over. The new secretary waved him in. He really didn’t need to ask if John was in, they had been business partners long enough for him to know the hours he chose to make, but it was his way. Polite. No storming around the company making sure everyone knew he owned it.

“Brandon! Good. I've been meaning to talk to you anyway.”

“Good morning John,” Christopher smiled more with his eyes than his lips, as he closed the door behind him.

“Listen, it is now warm enough for that gathering in the country house we have talked about, huh?” Both men were heading for the large table where staff meetings were sometimes held to open up the plans. Christopher said nothing. He remembered that dinner at John's house, the happy hope that had lived in his heart and was now smothered. He said nothing.

“It will be next weekend. What do you say, can you make it?”

“Sure” he said simply as he unrolled the large sheets on the table. What else was there for him to do on a weekend? John knew that very well. “All the usual suspects?” He then added as to not be too curt.

John, Sir John Middleton had many acquaintances that frequented his country home gatherings. Sirs, lords, barons and the like, as well as people who were simply fortunate to know him or live in his vicinity. He, Ada and Adele adored any excuse for a party.

“Yes. As well as the Dashwoods, of course. I’ve seen how you have acquired a special taste for the company of one of the Dashwoods” John smirked, “and I am happy to encourage it.”

“John...” Christopher uttered in a sad sigh.

“Why shouldn’t you enjoy it? Pretty young thing like that. Of course you are smitten. And she seems very interested herself, I tell you.”

“Marianne Dashwood has no interest in me, John. Why would she?”

“Brandon old man, do not speak so lowly of yourself, you...”

“All the better for her, John. Perhaps I was not meant to know love. I certainly should not expect it from a young pretty little thing as you have put it. My time has passed.”

“Brandon!”

“John. We have these blueprints to go over and I wish to be done by lunch time. I have clients to meet,” Christopher said seriously. John knew not to push him further, though he did not understand the reason for his sudden gloom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the end seems sort of... chopped. The chapter was too short, and the next one seemed very long, so I took the beginning of the next and added to this one. 
> 
> Just one more chapter of Brandon in angst. Then Willoughby will make himself scarce a bit. Of course that does not mean Marianne is Brandon's automatically. Hehehe.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 3 am. My computer died. I edited on my phone. Forgive bad editing. But at the same time, tell me if it's weird or hard to understand. I noticed that as I edited, some parts got erased as I tried to type new things. I went back every time I saw this happen, but maybe I didn't catch something.

The day came and Christopher Brandon stood in the ample back garden of the Middleton country estate. The sun was shining, making for a beautiful bright day. But Christopher couldn’t bring himself to fully appreciate it. Ada, Adele and John were in his vicinity welcoming the guests that exited to the beautiful external area. There were tables set with cream linens on them amidst the ornate bushes and flower beds, and up on the patio adjacent to the house the bar was set, along with the table for the buffet.

Christopher paid not much mind to the conversations around him, only stopping his mind from wondering absently to greet the odd guest that he was more acquainted with. And then he spotted her, exiting the house up on the patio. She wore a light yellow dress, which along with her loose and full blonde curls made her shine as the sun above them. Her smile only added to her brightness.

Unfortunately it was not for him, the smile. On her arm was one John Willoughby. Of course. Elinor had been encouraged to take her fellow and she stood beside Marianne with Edward on her arm, so naturally Marianne, who seemingly could not spend one moment apart from her new… boyfriend without wishing for death, saw that as an invitation for her to take him. That he practically had to be coerced to accompany her only she knew, and did not seem to care, as long as he was there.

The recently arrived party – the ladies at least – looked around for a familiar face. Once they spotted all the familiar faces in one same location, their faces lit up and they headed down, arm in arm with their beaux, to greet them. The Dashwood matriarch and her youngest offspring were of course among them as well.

Brandon braced himself, guarding all the feeling that came forth upon seeing her in a safe and deep place in his vest-clad chest. He wore a light cream colored three piece suit, a white shirt and a burgundy tie, a nice match to Marianne’s outfit, if only they were a couple.

Amelia was the first to greet them all warmly, as great friends. Now that she worked with Adele, she truly felt like they were indeed the best and oldest of friends. Margaret followed her mother in the greeting, and then came Elinor, who introduced Edward to all with a shy smile. But John and Ada immediately recognized him from the neighborhood, remembering who his parents were though the time they spent in the country estate was very sparse and few in between when Edward was younger, due to his father's busy schedule in the city. As was the Middleton’s – and Mrs. Jennings – way, they welcomed him with smiles and as an old friend.

It then was Marianne’s turn to giddily introduce her partner. There was an air of pride and infatuation about her that pained Christopher as he watched him being introduced to John, then Ada, then Adele. It bothered him also that he did not sense the same excitement from the lad, who seemed very stoic and closed off, even irked at being there. Were it him... Could he have the honor to have Marianne on his arm... His demeanor would absolutely be different. He would cherish her completely.

Brandon's dear friends were not as warm towards Willoughby as they had been to Edward, perhaps on account of him truly being a stranger, but they were not rude either. And then it was Brandon's turn to face him.

“Christopher, you've met John,” Marianne said with a wide smile.

“Briefly, yes,” he answered. He honestly was surprised she even remembered him being there that day.

Brandon was then forced to shake the man’s hand. How incredibly cruel, to shake the hand of the man who had taken his happiness from his grasp. Yet he could not truly blame him, for who wouldn’t want such a beautiful creature? And she did have a preference for him. She had never been Christopher’s. He was too slow, too cautious to claim her. None of those observations dulled his pain though.

In response to the polite smile Christopher managed to show, Willoughby only nodded briefly as he gave his firm handshake.

Some pleasantries then proceeded to being exchanged among the whole group, and Christopher could not help but to excuse himself to retrieve a drink. So up to the bar he fled to recompose, try to reign in these emotions that so uncharacteristically evaded his control.

Ada hurried to take the Dashwoods out to get reacquainted with Charlotte, her sister, and her husband Gregory Palmer. They had frequented the same circles when Mr. Dashwood was alive, though they had never become too close.

“Who is that?” Adele took the opportunity of being alone with John to ask, referring to Willoughby. “I thought Marianne was rather favorable to Brandon when we had that dinner in the city!”

“Yes, yes,” John said, observing Brandon up at the bar alone. “No wonder he has been out of sorts. He must have known already.”

“But I don't understand!” Adele was exasperated. “It was but two weeks ago, the dinner! How can the heart…”

“Ah, Mama, kids these days move very fast, the world is fast. We might have taken too long to arrange a new meeting.”

“Poor Brandon... go talk to him.”

“No, no, I know him, there is nothing I could say… though it hurts to see him suffer like this, yet again.”

“He deserves to find someone, and he is much more suitable than that… Willoughby lad.”

“But what can one do?” John shrugged and asked.

“I just might have a talk with her,” Adele Jennings said with her chin set in defiance.

***

Ada and Amelia were the only ones who remained with the Palmers after common pleasantries were exchanged. WilWilloughby discreetly drifted away and Marianne of course followed, and Edward and Elinor excused themselves as well shortly after. Margaret just hung back, a fish out of water since no one her age could be seen in the gathering.

As Elinor and Edward took a stroll admiring the gardens, her eyes spotted Christopher. He still stood leaned on the bar, looking down onto the garden and the people, and drinking scotch with more thirst than she had ever seen him have for an alcoholic beverage. He did not drink enough to get sloshed, mind you, but it was more than he was used to certainly. When Elinor followed his rather fixed gaze, she found he watched Marianne and Willoughby, who took poor cover behind an ornate shrub, and he did it with a world of sorrow that showed in his eyes.

Marianne was giddy with infatuation. Perhaps even love already, he could see. She touched Willoughby at every spare moment, her smile wide at all times. She would throw her arms around his neck and pull herself up to meet his lips with hers, peck them gently and briefly, suckle on them tenderly. She talked, excitedly, smiling always, and Brandon wondered what she said, wished it could be him she confided in. That it could be him she kissed so unreservedly. He should be happy she was happy at least, even if it was not with him. He certainly was the type of man to be so selfless. But in addition to the pain that burned his heart in having once again missed his chance in love, there was a sense that this Willoughby person did not deserve her, nor would he endeavor to as Christopher Brandon would happily die trying.

While she displayed affection and excitement, he seemed to brood and be uninterested, annoyed even. She did not notice, so blinded by her feelings she was, but were her attentions directed at Brandon, she would certainly feel affection as well. Unlike Willoughby, he would wrap his arms around her, smile as she spoke to him, whatever it may be she uttered. He would look into her eyes as she did it. He would return the tender pecks she bestowed. He wouldn't even care if it would seem to others thay he was a foolish old man, as long as she welcomed his feelings.

Elinor worried about her friend. “Edward dearest,” she said as she looked up at the elevated patio at Christopher, “can we… keep Christopher company for a while?”

“I don’t see why not” he said as he glared up the way she was looking. “He seems nice. But why do you think he needs it, love?

“He’s.. well, he never quite said anything to me, but I think he has some... interest in Marianne, and…”

Edward found what held the older man's gaze. “Ah. Say no more.” He took Elinor's hand and kissed the back of it. She smiled at him sweetly. Then they began to make their way up to the bar.

Midway there though, Elinor noticed Marianne had finally pulled away from Willoughby to go to the buffet table. “Dearest, you go ahead. I'm going to talk to Marianne, I'll be there in a minute.”

“Elinor, love, I can’t… I don't even know him!”

Elinor smiled, knowing full well how shy of strangers her significant other was. “For me, sweetheart. Please! He won't bite. Take a deep breath and I will be there before you know it.”

Edward smiled and squeezed her hand. They then parted ways, each headed to their set destination.

Elinor wanted to try to dissuade Marianne from being so very… giddy and girlish in public. It would benefit Christopher of course, but also avoid talk amongst these people. She was being rather foolish. But Elinor knew she had to tread lightly. Any comment related to Willoughby seemed to set her on a tantrum. He could do no wrong. Nor could she as long as she was with him.

Mrs. Jennings reached Marianne at the same time Elinor did, and bubbly and talkative as she was, began to speak before Elonor could even think how to approach her sister.

“Marianne wherever did you find your new beau?” Mrs. Jennings did not sound accusative or rude, but certainly was not as... effervescent as was her way.

It made no difference to Marianne, though. Any opportunity to brag about Willoughby and gush over him was welcomed by Marianne with utter delight. “He saved me from being run over on the street! Isn't it a romantic way to meet someone?”

“Hmmmm,” was all Adele said.

Marianne, undeterred, not having noticed the lack of enthusiasm from the older woman, said “and he's so good looking, don't you think?” with a wide smile.

“Yes, he's not bad. I just don't quite understand why you would go looking when you had such a fine specimen as Christopher right under your nose!”

Marianne’s jaw dropped in outrage. Elinor was wide-eyed with worry for a fleeting second before taking Marianne's hand by her side and squeezing it in warning to control her temper and response. It wouldn't do much, Elinor well knew. But luckily, Mrs. Jennings walked away before anything could be said.

“The nerve on that woman!” Marianne said in controlled anger to Elinor as she led her younger sister away from the buffet table. “To suggest I would have anything to do with an old man like that! To push me towards him! I never thought Christopher would be so disgusting as to force himself on…”

“Now, Marianne no! Be fair! Christopher never did anything but treat you with respect and kindness, as he does to everyone. Do not speak ill of him, that is so unbecoming and unlike you! He is not even in Mrs. Jennings vicinity, you cannot conclude he had anything to do with this. This is most likely Mrs. Jennings who got ideas into her head and is frustrated her attempts of matchmaking did not pan out. Don't be like that.” Marianne huffed indignantly. “And while we are on the subject, perhaps it would be wise to… hold back on the PDA a bit? For the sake of the company we are in.” There were a lot of posh people there.

“I will not restrain my love for the benefit of old snobs who are easily shocked,” Marianne said in a low bark.

Elinor raised both eyebrows. Love was a strong word to be used in such a short time and with someone... who affected her so negatively, it seemed. “You won’t be... restraining anything. I am not all over Edward and that does not mean I feel any less for him!”

“It's not my problem if your feelings are stale and lifeless and not passionate and true as ours.” Marinne turned and stalked to find Willoughby again, leaving Elinor blushing in anger and sorrow for how awful her sister was acting.

***

“Christopher. May I… call you Christopher?” Edward started nervously as he approached the bar and leaned beside the man.

“Of course, yes. Edward,” Brandon nodded once in acknowledgment of his friend's partner. He was polite, his eyes and countenance warm, hiding the sorrow he felt well from someone who was not observant or who did not know him well.

“Elinor speaks very highly of you. I thought perhaps... we should get acquainted.”

Brandon’s lips curled up slightly more. “Elinor is a dear friend. And far too kind, I'm sure. Getting acquainted seems a natural step, yes.” Brandon sipped his scotch.

“Is that any good?” Edward asked.

“It has been keeping me exquisite company, yes.”

Both men smiled as Edward gestured the bar tender to pour him a drink like Brandon’s.

“So, Edward, you are in advertisement?” Brandon was very thankful for the distraction and would strive to keep him there . He was oblivious to his feelings for Marianne, would not torment him like the hosts – even though he never confirmed any of his thoughts and emotions to them – and surely couldn't be mind-numbly snobbish as some of the others he knew there.

“Oh no, no, my father, he’s … he’s the one in advertisement. I am only the quiet, modest accountant, much to my father’s disappointment.”

Brandon smiled. “It's good honest work.”

“That it is. Not as exciting as building skyscrapers though.”

“It's not as glamorous as it may seem, I assure you.”

“It’s rather generous of you and Sir John to pay for Elinor’s education. I cannot begin to tell you how very ecstatic it made her, to be able to do what she loves.” Edward looked at his girlfriend out by the buffet table and smiled affectionately. “You have made her happy, fulfilled, and for that I will be forever grateful.”

Christopher looked on as well, but to a different person than his companion, though they stood side by side in heated conversation.

“Yes, well... I cannot be accused of being so very generous. She is extremely talented and an asset to the company.”

“Still...” Edward continued talking, but Christopher’s ears were deaf to it as his eyes followed Marianne, who stalked away from her sister and towards Willoughby. She met him with a large smile, much different than the troubled countenance she had left her sister with, and threw her arm around him, the opposite hand holding a plate with various finger foods. Willoughby put his arm around her as well, but rather dispassionately for Brandon's assessment. There was a peck on his cheek that stung Christopher's heart. She had meant it to be on his lips, but he seemed to have deliberately turned away a bit.

“I don't think it will last, you know.” Edward's voice finally cut through Christopher's thick thoughts and made its way to his hearing center.

“Pardon?” He asked, not quite following.

“I've known Marianne for a good portion of her life, and though she seems... incredibly infatuated, I do not believe it will last. She needs... more, things that fellow cannot offer.”

Christopher just watched him, trying to keep his surprise in check as he carefully thought out what to say, how to deny any... ideas or impressions he might have given.

“Forgive me,” Edward was quick to read his new acquaintance’s reaction and realized how very forward he had been. “I did not mean to intrude so rudely in your innermost feelings, I just…” Edward was nervous. “Forgive me. Be assured your secret is safe with me.”

Christopher sighed. “Am I so transparent?” He asked gently.

Edward smiled softly. “Pure and strong feelings are often hard to conceal, especially to those who are observant.”

“I am acting like a foolish teenager, I should not... I should have never… it is quite obvious I had no chance. He is more suited, of an age with her. I am still having trouble reigning in my emotions, but I will regain control.” Christopher placed his scotch on the bar and pushed it back towards where the bartender moved around, going about his business.

“As I've said, he is not so suited. Do not be so hard on yourself. Age means nothing, really. Marianne needs more, Willoughby will not keep her happy for long, though she won't see reason now.”

“You may know Marianne, but you don’t know me. How can you... support me in detriment of him?”

“Elinor knows you, and I very much trust her judgment. It is not perfect, for she for some reason took me to be worthy of her, but I do trust it.” Edward smiled. “Also, the fact that I am extremely shy of strangers but I'm comfortable talking to you and I could not bear a car ride with him properly is an indicative of what kind of lad you are and the surprisingly empty minded bore he is.”

Christopher let a corner of his lips curl up. “You're a good man, Edward. Elinor is just as lucky as you are.”

They both stood with their backs to the bar, perhaps one elbow leaned on it at a time or another, looking out to the ongoing party. Christopher tried to look elsewhere, get his mind off Marianne, not to let his feelings be noticed by anyone else. Too many seemed to know already. If Edward knew, Elinor would too. And the host of this party had been quite insistent on his getting together with Marianne, though they knew nothing for sure and only did so because of their matchmaking instincts towards him. He had to control himself.

But the couple did stand out with their... affectionate ways. Christopher glimpsed them with their lips locked in very earnest appreciation and turned away before the despair of witnessing such a scene suffocated him.

“He seems like the sort who has not read anything other than product labels his whole life, doesn't he?” Edward said. “Marianne likes poetry and literature. I cannot fathom what they talk about in extended moments of time.”

Christopher snorted. “They do not seem very intent on talking.” He was looking towards the buffet table now, in an attempt to get his mind on something else, and saw Elinor approaching. “Here comes your lady now,” he smiled.

Elinor approached Edward and leaned into him, bestowing an appreciative peck on his lips. Both parted with smiles and turned to Christopher.

“Have you both gotten acquainted then?” Elinor asked merrily, putting aside her frustration with her sister.

“Yes. Christopher has been kind enough to put up with me in your absence.”

Christopher smiled. “I did not put up with anything. Your company is a pleasure.”

“Well! I'm glad you two got along!”

Edward asked for a drink for Elinor as she spoke common pleasantries to Christopher, since she had not properly caught up with him since their arrival. It was as Edward received the drink and passed it to Elinor that Margaret arrived.

“So this is where the real party is happening. I'll have what she's having,” she instructed with a very straight face to the bartender.

“She will have no such thing! She will have a soda, please,” Elinor corrected and admonished Margaret with a look.

Margaret shrugged. “Couldn't hurt to try.”

“Margaret, explorer extraordinaire! Whereabouts have you been searching for treasure?” Edward teased her.

Christopher looked on with a smile and slight envy of the ease with which they teased and treated each other, as a family, really. He hadn't quite known that for some time, what it is to have a family. As good a friend as John and his family were to him, it wasn't quite the same.

Edward caught his new friend's glances. “Did you not know? Margaret is to travel the world and find many treasures, great archaeological findings and be obscenely rich. And I am to take care of her finances.”

Christopher raised an eyebrow as he smiled. “Is that so?” He looked at Margaret, who nodded confirming with much satisfaction as she sipped her soda. He then looked at Edward again. “You must be very honored.”

“It is an unfathomable honor, yes. To be trusted with such riches.”

Elinor just laughed softly.

“Could you, Mr. Brandon, find the time to build my ridiculously lavish mansion along with Elinor?” Margaret began to tease him as well, and his heart felt warm to be included in such simple silliness.

“For such an important project? I am sure I will make the time,” he smiled. “You just tell me your heart’s wish and I will make it reality. Meanwhile call me Christopher.”

“Good, good. Here's some food for thought: I want a Roman bath. Chew on that Mr…”

He narrowed his eyes playfully at her and she corrected herself. “Christopher.”

And thus, in light conversation they continued, and Christopher thought that if he could maintain such good friends, perhaps life would not be so lonely, even without his great love.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks!  
> Back from my time off, and unfortunately I did not write as much as I hoped. Only one chapter per week, as I was doing before. My muse seems t o be more interested in crafts and DIY projects at the moment. But I am still 10 chapters ahead of you I think, so hopefully she will focus again some time before we get there. Hehehe.
> 
> Happy Valentine's day!

Marianne was in her bed next to Elinor's, sobbing into a pillow. Elinor sat in bed, watching her, a crease down the middle of her brows as she looked at her sister in sorrow, not sure what to do or say.

There had been a couple of days after the party at Sir John's country estate where Marianne had brooded all day, snapping at anyone who tried to say anything to her. And Elinor noticed that she had been around the house practically all day on those days, which was a rare event after Willoughby entered their lives – or rather _her_ life since he didn't much socialize with the family.

Today, there had been silence and moping, as there had been yesterday. And finally, now that they were ready for bed, she had burst out crying. Elinor managed to learn, when the sobbing died down enough for her sister to speak, that Willoughby had given excuses as to why he could not meet her for a few days. He had been evasive, monosyllabic almost, and that was ‘so unlike him,’ Marianne had said, sniffing and whimpering. Then… then, he had simply stopped answering altogether. He wouldn’t take her calls, he saw her messages but did not reply.

“Why... would... he ... do... this... to me, Elinor?” She asked, face all red and puffy, pathetic really, as she tried to control her breathing and stop crying.

“I don’t know, dearest. Could… could it be he is busy at work? Or had to go away without notice?” Elinor tried to appease her sister, but it wasn't what she really thought. She didn’t know him deeply, but what she had seen of Willoughby had made her think he seemed like an asshole. A womanizer. He probably had just gotten tired of Marianne, maybe had gotten what he wanted already an was bored, so he left. He hadn’t needed to work hard to have Marianne wrapped around his finger, that much was obvious. His conquest was done, time to move on to the next.

Elinor knew really well there was no possibility of him being busy at work. He was a personal trainer, and not one that worked particularly hard at that. His parents had money he thought he was entitled to, and he seemed comfortable in relying on that, having found something easy for him to do only to appease his father, who pushed him to pursue something. He probably was already very into his body and working out for some time, so pursuing that career was the easiest road. Elinor had known through Marianne that he wanted to be an athlete, but it seemed he didn’t work to achieve that either, and now Elinor thought maybe that was just something he said to try to impress her sister. Of course Elinor had interpreted most of this, read in between the lines, because he never did much talking the few times he was around her, and to Marianne he could do no wrong, so every information from her was distorted by her wishful thinking.

“Busy? He can't send me one message saying he'll talk later? Giving me some form of explanation, even if brief?”

“Yes, well of course you were right, that would be the decent thing to do.”

“I don't know what it could be!” Marianne sobbed again.

“Can’t you think of anything? Did you have a falling out, did he make any comments on anything…”

“No!” She blew her nose. “Well... There was one thing... But it couldn't be! That would mean... That would mean he is despicable and never cared for me at all!” She cried harder again. Her tears were drying up, so much had she cried, and now there was mostly whimpering and grimacing.

“Well, Marianne… I hate to tell you, but perhaps you should start considering that possibility, love.”

“What?”

“Marianne! Really! Look at how he is treating you! What he has done to you, how he’s making you feel! He’s out there without a care in the world, not bothering to answer a simple text, while you sit here crying your eyes out for him! You deserve better than that. He does not deserve your tears.”

Marianne sniffled. She wanted to fight Elinor, fight what she said, but did not have an argument to make at this moment.

“And he made you different, not in a good way.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You are a sweet, caring, sensitive girl, with a huge heart and big dreams. Yet, when you were with him, you acted… well, bitchy, honestly, and just awful.”

“I did not!”

“You undermined my feelings for my boyfriend, who I have known and loved for many years, and his for me just because we do not act like you did. You said awful, hateful words to me, snapped at Mama and Margaret on the few times you were around and not glued to your phone, when we were only trying to help you and perhaps avoid this moment right now. And you also said hateful things about Christopher, for instance, and ostracized him who has done nothing but be a good friend, never said a word against Willoughby, and who I remember you very much enjoyed talking to.” Elinor decided to add that last part in the heat of the moment, she didn't quite know why. Defending her friend, probably.

Marianne’s face went from slightly defiant to one about to burst into tears again, lips turned down and quivering, a sad little frown. Then it happened, she burst out crying and threw herself back on the bed, her back to Elinor.

“Marianne… Marianne, dearest, there’s no need…” Elinor tried to calm her down but there was no use, she just cried louder. Elinor turned the lamp in between their beds off after a few minutes to try to get some sleep. She had work in the morning.

When Elinor's alarm sounded the next morning, she opened her eyes to see a fully dressed Marianne sitting on her bed and watching Elinor intently. She had deep dark rings around her eyes, which were still puffy, indicating she probably did not sleep at all.

“Christ, Marianne!” Elinor woke with a bit of a jump.

“Elinor, I... I want to say I am sorry. I did say horrible unwarranted things to you.” How could she have said such things to her family, who had been there for her always? It was despicable, even if she did love Willoughby and was trying to defend him, as she would her sisters and mother. But perhaps... perhaps a good man, the _right_ man, would not cause such division, would only add to the peace. “You are right, I was... horrible.” She wanted to cry, but there were no more tears. “I'm sorry.” And it was all for naught. She defended him, but the people who were by her side now were the ones she attacked. And the one she defended would not even answer her texts.

“I appreciate it, Marianne, your apology. Thank you.” But Marianne still looked absolutely devastated. “Apology accepted, no need to dwell on it anymore okay?”

Marianne nodded dispassionately.

“Now, where are you going so dressed up?” Elinor tried to lighten the mood as she stood and made her bed.

“I have early classes today.” She had cut many classes, too many, to spend time with Willoughby and then to lick her wounds as sorrow befell her for having been ignored by the man she loved, the man of her dreams. She still did not feel up to it, to life, but she needed to push forward. She could not waste the sacrifice her mother and sister made to pay for her tuition and student loans, the sacrifice made to allow her education. It could not go to waste, not even for the perfect man, the love of her life, which now something deep inside her started to question if Willoughby really was.

“Oh good. Dearest, good! Go learn, see your classmates, have some distraction and fun. I'm sure soon everything will be sorted, one way or the other.”

Marianne nodded, still not perky and lively as was her usual personality.

It wasn't too long before lunch that Elinor received a text from her sister.

_Would you have lunch with me?_

_Oh hun, I've got lunch with Christopher._

_Business? Can’t I come? He never seemed to mind._

_Not sure… I’ll check with him if it’s business._

  1. _I'll stop by either way._



Marianne wanted company, yes, someone that would respect what she was going through. She had friends at the University now, few, and she didn't really feel comfortable telling them this, what had happened yet, since she had bragged about Willoughby like a fool. And so, without knowing what happened, her friends would be too perky and silly and perhaps trigger her into crying. Besides, she wanted to make things up to her sister. It was bothering her that she had been so bratty and hadn’t even noticed.

She would not lie, some part of her wondered whether she wouldn't bump into Willoughby by going to meet her sister. He did work around there, though she never really met him at his workplace, only in the vicinity. She didn't really know where the gym he worked at was. That sliver of her soul that said he maybe wasn’t all of that grew a tad louder at this realization.

Elinor, on the other hand, knew very well the lunch was not business. It never really was. With everything work related, Christopher would show no favoritism and would treat her like her peers. So any business would be handled at the company, in meetings with all of them. Only upper level managers – very far from where she stood in the company at present – would go out to business lunches with Christopher and Sir John and try to win over high-profile clients. But she had to ask him if it was okay to meet Marianne now. Before, she was sure it would be, he deeply fancied her, it was evident. And Elinor wanted to help them to get to know each other and perhaps find happiness in one another. But ever since Willoughby came into the picture, something switched off in Christopher’s eyes, though he managed to hide it well. But she saw it, she knew. What she didn’t know was if her sister’s company would pain him now. She did not want to add to the sorrow already so present in his eyes, in his soul it seemed.

“Christopher,” she stopped him as they met in the lobby, “would it be all right if Marianne joined us? If not, it is no trouble at all, be honest.”

He paused for a moment, eyes lost in consideration of the situation. His heart still beat dully, subdued, but it sped up at the mention of her name. But his self-preservation screamed he walk away. To be so near and know she could never be his, to hear her talk of another man with joy and care she would never have for him, to perhaps even share the table with said man and pay for his lunch, it all made his stomach churn in revulsion.

Elinor seemed to notice these thoughts crossing his mind. She quickly tried to soothe him. “You see, she is a bit down. It seems Willoughby has cast her aside, won’t answer her for days now. So she has been clinging to me a bit for comfort.”

“Oh.” It pained him to know she was in pain, but he could not control the spark of hope that lit in his belly once more. “Then perhaps it is best you see her by yourself. I… I would be intruding.”

“No, not at all. She asked if she could come _with_ us, not just for me.” Elinor smiled softly. “It perhaps will do her good, to interact with more people, with a friendly face.”

He agreed to it, and they walked together out onto the street.

Marianne was sat on the ledge of the garden on which Willoughby had sat her weeks ago. She was very quiet and collected, looking towards nowhere specific, looking sorrowful and subdued. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her eyes and skin lacking the shine they had to them. Christopher’s heart tightened in his chest to see her as such. Still, he thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. It just pained him to see her feeling so down.

“Marianne,” Elinor called to her, and she looked up to her sister in the distance and stood to meet them halfway.

“Hello,” she said softly as she approached them, with a polite and small smile.

“Miss Marianne,” he nodded once with a soft smile himself. Though he wanted to hold her, console her, try to cheer her up in some way, he thought it was best to respect her sorrow and not make light of it. She hadn't confided in him with her troubles anyway. There was also the problem of seeming like the creepy old git who wanted to take advantage of her hurt and win over the pretty young girl. And finally, he could not unguard his heart. What if this was just a little spat and Willoughby returned soon? He couldn't allow himself to hope. So, to remain guarded seemed like the best option for all.

But were she his.. never would he go days without word to her. It would be hard to go an hour without word, no matter how busy or how many meetings he had in the day. This was not behavior of someone worthy of such a sweet and intelligent woman. It was not behavior of one who cherished her, of one who would want to come back to her – as Willoughby should want to, if he was not a fool.

Marianne noticed the formality of his greeting and flinched slightly. “I... I don't want to intrude in any way. I just came for a quick hello and I will let you be,” she said timidly.

“Nonsense,” Christopher managed with his shy and charming smile, without touching and pulling her near as he wished. “Do join us.”

It was still too formal for her taste, too grave compared to what she remembered of his actions towards her, but she felt slightly more comfortable in going since he explicitly offered.

They took a nice little stroll to a nearby restaurant, but the ones who were mostly interacting where Elinor and Christopher. Marianne did not remember feeling so much like the tag along little sister on other occasions. Perhaps it was because she was standing on the other end of the line they walked in, Elinor in between them, that Christopher gave her no attention as she remembered receiving.

They sat down in the restaurant and, as times before, Christopher handed the Maître D’ his card before they had even ordered, saying all the table’s consumption should be charged to that. Marianne received more attention there, and was able to participate more in the conversation. Still it was not as before, it seemed. Elinor and him had bonded more, he had even been in contact with Edward. They had more to talk about, more they shared. Apparently, Edward had even agreed to take a look at Christopher's personal finances.

Whatever bond Marianne and Christopher had shared though, seemed more distant and colder. She hadn't even known she liked his company and conversation so much until now, when she realized something had shifted and been lost, and he was mostly just polite and pleasant towards her. Perhaps even a bit standoffish.

She had said horrible things about him as well, not just at Sir John’s country home. Willoughby had not liked him, despite never having exchanged more than five words with him at a time, and he made fun of him in private with her at some point, mocking him as a rich snob. She had joined in, even though she knew he was nothing of the sort. But she had wanted to please Willoughby, show him they were in sync.

Had Christopher heard what she had said at the party? She didn't even remember if she was within earshot when she had gone off. Had Elinor told him? Had Mrs. Jennings? Oh god, she could cry right there at how awful she had been, how rude. If he knew... of course he would be treating her like this. And she couldn't even apologize to him, for she hadn't said it to his face. She wasn't even sure if he knew or not.

She bit her tongue to stop herself from crying. She was successful at that, and carried on the few interjections she could make in the conversation.

If she could not apologize, the least she could do was try to make up for her lousy behavior towards him, even if it was concealed from him, possibly. So, at the end of the meal, as her sister and she would part ways from him to head to campus, she spoke up shyly.

“Christopher, thank you for the lovely meal. Yet another.”

He had noticed she had fought hard to not cry for the second half of the meal and it absolutely ached his heart. He wanted to kiss her and to try to comfort her, to show her he cared. It would kill him if he didn't do something. Be damned his guarded heart. Let it be hurt yet again, if it must be like that. Luckily, she gave him this opening to show something. He was not sure how he should proceed if she hadn’t.

He took her hand in his and gently swiped his thumb over the back of it, in a quick and shy caress. He then leaned down to press his lips to her soft warm skin. “It's always a pleasure, Marianne,” he said in a soft rumble and with a warm smile.

A world of relief flooded Marianne's heart, and she could not explain why a simple gesture meant so much to her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today would have been Alan Rickman's birthday. :)  
> A chapter to celebrate.

Christopher could not get past how tormented she had seemed. He wanted to somehow comfort her, make her feel better and realize that blaggard deserved not one ounce of her time or a single tear shed by her. And that smile as his slips touched her hand had given him hope, foolish old man he was. He was bound to be heartbroken again if he continued down this path.

Yet he came up with an idea, actually brought it back up during his inner dwelling since the opportunity had presented itself. He had been thinking before of finding Marianne work, finding a translation for her to do. He knew how hard it could be to enter the job market, and a recommendation from a company such as his own on her resume could do wonders. She was very capable, he knew. He had had conversations with her in French, which was the only language he dared risk conversation in other than English, and she was very fluent, spoke flawlessly. But he saw no harm in giving a bit of help, a little push. He wanted so much to be of use to her, to do absolutely everything in his power to make her happy. But he had been slightly afraid of offending or overstepping, and once she met Willoughby, their contact had all but ceased, and he definitely saw no opening to bring this idea of his up. But now… now it all had the added bonus of distracting her mind from her heartache.

They, the company, had been working to close a deal to start construction on a site in France, and it had finally come through. And luckily, on the following day of his lunch with Marianne and Elinor, the topographic land survey had arrived on his desk. In French. Usually, one of his managers took care of this, and probably already had a go-to freelance translator for |French, but he would take this one into his own hands. He would offer her the job, and once it was done, he would hand it down to the managers for evaluation, and perhaps they could even hire her again in the future. Maybe it would enable him and Marianne to have more contact, get closer. _Old hopeful fool._

So it was with such a purpose in mind that he set off after work – getting off a quarter of an hour or so earlier – to the address where he had dropped Marianne off twice before. He took a cab as to not keep his driver on later than needed, only a printed copy of the survey in hand and a few items in his pockets. It was a simple enough affair. Still his heart thumped in his chest, and halfway there he caught himself wishing he hadn’t been so impulsive. He should have checked with Elinor first if she thought Marianne would be interested. What if she had resolved whatever issue there was with Willoughby, and she wasn't even there? Or worse, _he_ was?

Christopher stepped out onto their pavement and took a deep breath before walking up to the door and ringing the bell. Mrs. Dashwood was the one to answer. She had just arrived from the store it seemed to, grocery bags by the door awaiting to be taken in.

“Oh! Mr. Brandon, hello!”

“Mrs. Dashwood, call me Christopher, please.”

“Well in that case you'll need to call me Amelia,” she smiled warmly.

He nodded once with a shy smile. “Amelia.”

“Come in, come in! What brings you by?” She asked as she moved aside for him to step inside. “Is there something the matter at work? Should I get Elinor?”

“No not at all, I was actually hoping to speak to Marianne.”

“Oh! Well, she should be around. I just need to take these into the kitchen and we can find her. Please overlook the mess.”

Christopher smiled and immediately bent down to pick up a few bags, as many as he could manage. “Allow me to land a hand.”

“Oh why thank you, you’re too kind,” Mrs. Dashwood replied, truly grateful for the help.

Christopher followed her into the kitchen with many bags in his arms as she carried only one. He set them down on the counter she indicated.

“Mama did you get…”

Christopher heard the sweet and melodic voice of the angel that inhabited his dreams, and his heart hammered in his chest. He turned around to see her flush red instantly as she realized they had company and that he was it.

“Well there she is! Christopher here wants to talk to you, Marianne.”

“Hello, Marianne.” He smiled softly to her, and bowed just a little.

“Hh...hi,” she said almost inwardly, embarrassed by the old baggie jumper she had on, full of lint balls.

“Go into the living room, make yourselves comfortable,” Amelia said as she put away the groceries.

“Marianne, putting her shyness aside for a moment, looked alive and indicated he follow her into the next room.

“I was… wondering,” he started as she indicated he sit and then sat herself on a chair beside the sofa he lowered himself onto, “if you would have availability to translate some reports for me, for the company that is.” He handed her the relatively thick bundle of paper.

She took it from his hand with wide and eyes and a slightly dropped jaw in surprise. As she looked some of the pages of the surveys over, he spoke. “We are to… build in France for a client, but he had already had the soil and topographic surveys done with a local company, and my people need to understand it to start the project.”

Still in awe, she turned to him. “But surely you already have someone of your preference, more capable, more experienced, to take on such an important task.” It was important. It scared her a bit. One wrong word in the document could compromise the structure of the building, she could well imagine.

“You are capable. And of my preference.”

Marianne blushed as her lips curled up slightly.

“And you will have to start somewhere to gain experience.”

Marianne looked down at the papers on her lap again. It was then Elinor swooshed by, on her way to the kitchen to help her mother. Edward was to come for dinner. She did a double take upon seeing her boss and friend sat in her living room.

“Christopher?!”

“Hello Elinor,” he stood to greet her.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, quite. I am trying to recruit Marianne for a translation for the company.”

“Oh!”

“Topographic and soil surveys.”

“Ooooh, very fancy,” Elinor nudged her sister’s shoulder playfully. She had no doubt he believed in Marianne’s potential, but perhaps he had more in mind. Helping her, distracting her mind... winning her over. Elinor saw no problem in such tactics and would help however she could.

“What do you say, Marianne?” Christopher asked.

Mrs. Dashwood came in with tea for their guest and quietly set it down and offered it, not disturbing the conversation.

“Well, I guess... If you are comfortable in trusting me with such a task.. I can give it a go, yes.”

“Good. I'm very glad.” Christopher’s smile was sincere and tender. “What is your rate then, Miss Marianne?” he said, more business-like now, formal, but not snobbishly. It was endearing and once again made Marianne blush.

“Oh no, I couldn’t.. whatever you see fit. I can do it solely for the experience.”

“Oh no no, come now, what is your rate?”

Marianne looked at Elinor. Her sister had an encouraging look.

“When is it due?” Marianne asked in turn, with more confidence.

“Is a week from Friday, in the evening, acceptable to you?”

Suddenly she became shy again and exchanged looks with her sister and mother before saying quietly “yes, I can do that.”

“Is something the matter?” He looked around the room. He was hoping quietly at the back of his mind that her handing in the work done could be reason to arrange a dinner and... It could turn from business to a date. Foolish really.

“I think Marianne is a little shy because that will be… the one-year anniversary of her father’s passing. You see, there will be a service at Church…”

“Say no more,” Christopher gently put a hand up as he placed his tea cup back on the tray. “I understand. Early the following Monday works just as well.”

Marianne and her mother both smiled in gratitude.

“Okay. Thank you,” Marianne said softly.

“About that rate then…” he continued.

“Well, that’s plenty of time to do it, no urgency rate, so… £0.08 per word?”

Christopher had done his research, and knew this was below the going rate. She probably did this due to the fact she was still a student and lacked experience. But he would not contradict her…for now.

“Very well.” He took a flash drive from his pocket. “Here's the digital copies,” he handed the flash drive to her. “I will have to ask that you do not make that public in any way.”

“Of course!” She suddenly sounded a bit affronted, offended.

“Merely a formality,” he tried with a reassuring smile, to appease her.

It was true. He of course knew she wouldn’t do such a thing as share his company’s documents. He then took a card from his pocket.

“This is my card.” It had his personal email and number, not the business ones. “Anything you might need, I am at your disposal. Any doubts with the more technical terms, any need for research material… even if you need office space, if that is how you prefer to work rather than at home, we can arrange something at the company.”

Marianne daintily took the card from his hand.

“Do not hesitate to contact me.”

He could not lie to himself, he hoped this was finally a way, a door to have her number, to have direct contact with her. But he would manage his expectations. It was too much to hope for such things. To be able to help her was enough.

“Okay, thank you.” She smiled and held the flash drive and his card tightly in her hand.

“Well then, I should be off,” Christopher proclaimed. He did not want to part from his beloved, not at all, but there was no excuse to linger there.

“Oh no, stay for dinner!” Mrs. Dashwood said.

“No, no, I would not want to intrude.”

“It is no intrusion! You have employed two of my daughters, the least I could do is offer you dinner!”

“Yes, do stay! Edward is joining us as well,” Elinor said.

“It is a family affair, I could not...”

“Yes, do stay, Christopher,” Marianne’s soft voice uttered, and it was enough to melt his heart completely and make all reservations he had fade away.

“Well, if it’s not too much trouble...”

Elinor and Mrs. Dashwood went into the kitchen to get the cooking started and left Marianne to sit with Brandon. He had offered help, of course, but it was declined. He was a guest there after all, and should not work. Mrs. Dashwood was going to ask Marianne to help her and leave Elinor to chat with her friend, but Elinor insisted she be the one to help, and Marianne seemed comfortable and sitting with Christopher. Very comfortable.

They started discussing the translation, as he explained to her what the documents were about, what sort of information and language she should expect. But then the conversation shifted slowly from work to pleasantries, and then more personal matters as they slowly resumed the getting to know each other that had been going on. They fell back into that ease and intimacy that seem to be developing between them before Willoughby had appeared in their lives, and soon the conversation was peppered with smiles and laughs and flowed so easily.

Marianne truly felt at ease talking to him, like she could say anything and he would understand and find something supportive or uplifting to say. She didn't know how she could have forgotten this, all for the benefit of Willoughby. A little gnawing at the back of her mind told her she never felt this comfortable with Willoughby. She was always trying to impress him, it was so tiresome, worried if what she said would make him laugh, make him like her more. If it wouldn’t be stupid. With Christopher there was no worry. Not that she did not care how he saw her, not at all. But it seemed that he was always pleased with what she naturally and effortlessly wanted to say. She could be herself with him, completely. Marianne ignored that little voice. It was just trying to make her forget Willoughby, transferring affections to the first man that gave her the attention she longed for.

Willoughby. It still made her sad to remember. They seemed to have shared so much, to be so in sync and perfect for each other... yet he had ignored her, still did. She hadn’t reached out again, she did have _some_ self-respect… but she couldn’t help but wonder if it had all been in vain, a lie. Why did such things happen? Why did you give yourself to someone so completely, feel so deeply for them, only to not have it truly reciprocated? It perhaps had been her own stupidity in not realizing…

Margaret, having finished her school work, came to sit with them. That hindered the progress of the reacquaintance, and of perhaps the deepening of such an acquaintance, since attention had now to be shared with the youngest sister. Brandon wouldn't be so rude as to ignore the child. He quite liked talking to her actually. She was a very smart and funny - even if moody - girl.

When Edward arrived, Elinor and Marianne switched places. As Elinor sat with her boyfriend and her friend - very quickly becoming _their_ friend - Marianne went to the kitchen to help with finishing touches. After enjoying Edward's company for a bit, Margaret followed to set the table.

Fate – disguised as Elinor – was kind enough to have Christopher sat next to Marianne around the round table. It was not a large table, but sat the six of them quite well even if elbows sometimes rubbed against one another. Needless to say, Christopher rejoiced in that, for Marianne’s elbow remained firmly nudged against his own throughout better part of the meal. He had wished to touch so much more of her for quite some time now, but if this was all he could get, this was what he would be content with.

It was nice, being among family like this, even if it was not his family. He hadn't had this in a long time. Yes, he was constantly invited to John's and though he and his family were great, dear friends of Christopher’s, it didn't quite feel like this. They were all more ...formal. And they knew of his past, witnessed how some of its events treated him. So, his quietness would spark sorrowful looks towards him that pained him. They felt the incessant need of trying to cheer him, set him up, when really he was fine as he was. Or had been, before his heart was brought alive again by the remarkable woman to his side.

Here, with the Dashwoods… this was cozier and warm, even if he was the odd man out. They just carried on with their conversations and light cheer, including him in it all. And just the fact he was sat next to Marianne made his heart feel joy it hadn’t in quite some time. It's made him remember there truly could be more to life than simply going through the motions.

People were reaching for seconds. The dinner as a whole was complimented, but Mrs. Dashwood’s roast was praised by all. Brandon however, was very interested in getting seconds of the mashed potato.

“This is the most delicious mash I have ever had,” he commented as he served himself to one more spoon, handing the plate back to Edward, who had passed it to him. It had been what Marianne was called upon to do, he well knew, for it was pointed out at the beginning of the meal as a game among the sisters. They gave each other's doings away, so any complaints could be directed at the one responsible for messing it up.

At his words, Marianne blushed and smiled down to her plate as conversation continued. Edward and Elinor smiled to themselves, being the only ones there who knew Brandon’s heart.

The table was cleared and Mrs. Dashwood brought out dessert, a custard pie.

“You'll like this, Christopher,” Mrs. Dashwood said. “It is Marianne's specialty.” Perhaps other people were catching on to Brandon’s feelings… or perhaps they were catching on to Marianne’s, even before she herself had realized what she felt.

“She does make it divinely,” Elinor added.

Everyone got served and once Christopher had tasted it, he praised it along with everyone else. Christopher smiled no himself as he chewed, wondering if her lips would taste as sweet as it did.

Marianne was flushing as she ate a slice herself, trying not to look anyone, especially Christopher for some odd reason, in the eye.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeey! A little later in the day than usual. Sorry for that. But my head was killing from since I woke up.  
> Hope you enjoy. We are creeping up to the reason the fic is rated E. I know that's what you really want. Hahaha. But you'll still need a bit of patience.

It had been gnawing at Marianne for a little while now. She sat at the small desk in hers and Elinor’s room, her laptop open in front of her, her hand handmade notes on a notepad on one side, her mobile on the other. She looked from one, to the second, to the third. Something so simple. She had done it a million times, with so many people throughout her life. It should be mechanical. It should not bother her. It should not... make her so nervous.

Elinor came into the room, tired after a long day of work and then classes. It was still early, she had fewer classes that day, but yet the day had been so long. Her arrival brought relief to Marianne.

“Elinor, are you going to see Christopher tomorrow?” She asked looking slightly distressed, flushed, flustered as her sister put her bags down on the other corner of the room and sat with a thud on her bed.

“I don't know, Marianne. I might. I mean, we have nothing scheduled but we do work at the same company. Why?”

“I was wondering if you might… discuss some few notes with him. There are these technical terms I am unsure about in the translation, and…”

“Marianne,” Elinor smiled knowingly, “you know very well you are the one who needs to discuss those with him. Where is your professionalism?”

Marianne huffed indignantly. “I was simply… suggesting it might be easier!” she stated with more confidence. “You are to see him anyway most likely, and he is a very busy man! I simply did not want to impose.”

“Right… right. Well done, that does sound more like the Marianne I know. Feisty and headstrong, obstinate. Not the shy version,” Elinor teased.

Marianne grabbed a cushion from her bed and threw it at Elinor. Her sister just laughed at her.

“The man gave you his phone number, Marianne, said you could ask for anything you need. Call him already and stop trying to make me your errand girl or messenger.”

Marianne looked to her phone on the table and pinched a fingernail in between her teeth. “Do you think I would disturb him if I call now? He's probably at home, relaxing.”

Elinor looked at her watch. “No, he's probably still at the office, keeping himself busy.”

Marianne looked at her phone again, doubt in her eyes.

“Just call him already!” He would be thrilled, Elinor knew it. “I don't know why you are so nervous. It's just business after all,” Elinor said nonchalantly as she pulled off her shoes and started undoing her blouse. “Isn't it?” She dared ask.

“Of course! Yes! I'll just text him, to make sure I'm no bother.”

Elinor smiled mischievously to herself as she continued to disrobe, and Marianne retrieved his card from the drawer in her nightstand, so safely kept, to type his number in her phone.

Christopher had waited for 4 days, hope hammering in his chest at every second that his phone would ring and it would be her, that he would finally have such a prized possession as her number. It was stupid, childish. In this day in age he could simply ask for it. But he felt he should be extra proper with her. She was younger, family to a friend. Someone he could truly see himself with for his whole life. That hadn’t happened in nearly 20 years now. And he was rather wrong the first – and only other – time he did feel that. He wanted this to be… just right, if it ever was truly going to happen. And there was that fear of harsh rejection, the irrecuperable tear it would cause in his heart. He truly was acting like an inexperienced boy. But he couldn't help it. He was very much in love, there was no denying it any longer.

Waiting for a call or message the whole weekend, however, made him cautious and wary again. She did not wish to speak to him, or have any contact other than necessary with him, that much was obvious. He had to respect that. And the agony of being idle, alone at home made his brain bring up painful possibilities. What if Willoughby had returned to the picture? She might not even want to, or have the time to do the translation. Perhaps Elinor would tell him so on Monday. He wouldn't even blame her, accuse her of lack of professionalism. She was so young, it was understandable she would prefer to enjoy life, as she should. He hadn't had the chance to do that quite right, enjoy life, and had jumped into work out right. There were experiences that could not be brought back or lived later in life, he knew. If she had the opportunity to live them, with someone she… liked, she should do it. He just hoped the bastard would endeavor to deserve her.

So on Monday, Christopher once again immersed himself in work. It was all he had. It was the constant in his life. It was what had helped him out of so much. And as he sat there at his desk, going over paperwork, the sound of notification on his personal phone startled him. There were only a handful of people who could be texting him on that number, and he could not think why any would at that hour. They usually did not. Elinor had already left and couldn’t want to meet.

He picked up his phone to check it, a bit annoyed if he were to be honest, because he knew it wouldn't be who he wished it was. The fact anyone else was reaching out to him but her annoyed him. It seemed pointless to indulge anyone else. But once he saw the notification was from a new number, hope filled his heart. And then he opened the messages and saw her sweet face, smiling, framed by her full blonde curls in the circular profile picture. His heart was flooded with excitement and giddiness.

_Christopher? It’s Marianne Dashwood._

_I was wondering if we could discuss_

_some of the technical terms in the reports._

_Whenever you are available._

He smiled. _It's Marianne Dashwood._ As if there were any other Marianne in his life. The first thing he did was save her number, to be forever safely guarded in his phone. It was treasured information to him, and he was so excited to have it. He then breathed deeply, to calm himself and be able to string together a proper and dignified answer. _You are a 40-year-old man. Act it._

_Lovely to hear from you, Marianne!_

_I believe such discussions are more fruitful in person._

_Important information can get lost in_

_communicating over the phone._

_Are you available to stop by the office tomorrow?_

_At the time of your choosing._

_Yes, that will be all right._

_Is 10:30 a good time for you?_

_Perfect. I will be expecting you._

_See you then._

He smiled, very pleased with himself that he had managed to arrange a meeting with her - and only her. Finally. From then on, he could not focus on work any longer, and as his heart was soothed, the weight of all the work he had done that day became apparent. He needed rest. And now he would go home and do just that, rest. Peacefully.

On the next day, as the appointed time approached, he could not bring himself to do anything else but sit and wait. His heartbeat in his throat it seemed, and he sat, steepled fingers on his stomach, watching the door to his office, watching the phone on his desk, watching nothing at all. He heard a buzzer that startled him and then his assistant's voice came in through the intercom.

“Mr. Brandon, Miss Marianne Dashwood is here to see you.”

He did not answer, but immediately stood - or sprang off his chair - and stalked to his door, pulling it open. Marianne was sat outside, in the waiting area in front of his assistant’s desk. Her more casual look of everyday classes and what not, the one he had seen on the few lunches he had had with her and her sister, was left aside today. She tried for more formal look, perhaps to look professional, as if he were any stranger who had hired her. She looked gorgeous nonetheless. A black pencil skirt, showing her legs, beautiful… desirable as he remembered from their first encounter; sensible heels; a beige blouse with a modest neckline that showed him not too much, but just enough to make him long for her even more. Just enough to allow sweet, sweet fantasies to flood his mind. Her hair was in a bun. He missed the sight of her curls, but this allowed him to see her long shapely neck, her soft porcelain skin, and fantasies of nuzzling her and having his tenderness welcomed crept in his mind as well.

She sat timidly on a corner of the sofa, fingers interlaced on her knee as her exquisite legs were crossed. The bag with her notebook sat next to her. She looked nervous, yet determined.

“Marianne,” he called as she distractedly stared out the window at the gray skies.

Startled, she looked to him. She then smiled and stood, grabbing her bag to make her way to him.

“Hello,” he said with a smile as she was at the door. He wanted to hug her but thought that may be too forward, so he stretched out a hand for her to shake. She took it and let out a shy “hi” in response.

He moved out of the way and invited her into his office. She walked in and as he closed the door, he told her to take a seat. She sat on one of the chairs that opposed his at his large and neatly arranged desk. She placed her bag on the other chair, and started to go through it to pull out her little notepad.

Christopher made his way around the desk to his chair and sat facing a blushing Marianne, still determined to be professional and confident though.

“I'm sorry to have to impose and take time from your busy day like this, but I feel it is necessary for the translation to be of the best possible quality.”

“Naturally. It's no imposition at all, trust me.” His smile was tender and sincere. “I'm very happy to help. Really.”

She let a timid smile graced her lips. They locked eyes, and there was… some intensity there. Something that made her stomach do some flips. It scared her, and so she broke eye contact to look at her notes as she cleared her throat.

“So, there are some terms that I could not pinpoint what the most common usage would be in English, in the context of… engineering.”

“Yes, I understand.” He still smiled and looked at her tenderly. She was so beautiful. His heart swelled at the sight of her, at the possibility of being so close and alone with her. He wished he could hold her, openly tell her how beautiful and smart she was, how he could very well love her already, and love her for the rest of his life.

“The first term that came up was _tassement du sol_ , which I found is when parts of the building are disrupted due to changes in the soil on which it was built.” She felt silly explaining this to him, he spoke French, he certainly knew engineering. She was probably explaining it wrong. She would be mortified if he corrected her, because the sole reason she didn’t simply tell him the term in French and demand the equivalent was so he didn’t think she wanted him to do her work for her. She had done her research, but she found various terms that fit in one way or the other and she wasn’t sure which was more commonly used and would make the text flow more naturally and be completely understood by his crew. There was also the fact that the term she chose could be more used in American English and be completely different for them.

Luckily, he waited patiently for her explanation to end, like a true gentleman, and did not correct or shame her in any way. He just looked at her with a softness in his eyes she could very well believe was admiration. But it was probably just his kindness. It was just him being polite.

“Oh yes. That would be what we call settlement.”

“Oh, great,” she smiled happily. That was the one she would use if she had no opportunity to speak to him and clear her doubts.

“Okay, next one is _trou de sonde_. The hole they drill to evaluate the quality of the soil?”

“Borehole,” he said simply, that soft smile and admiration in his eyes still present as he watched her.

She took some notes and went over what she had brought to ask him to find what was next. As she did this, he spoke up. “Would you like some coffee? Tea?”

“Oh no, no, no need to bother with me.”

“Are you sure? I'm making one for me anyway.” He stood and headed to a corner where the machine sat, along with tea bags and paper cups.

“Well… if you are going to make one anyway…”

He looked back with that smile of his, wide and friendly, and Marianne suddenly noticed how extremely gorgeous it was, his smile, how extremely charming he looked in his three-piece suit of a deep blue color, sans the jacket which hung on the back of his chair. He looked charming with the soft light of the gray day shining in on him.

“What is your poison?” He asked.

“Hmmm... Do you have Lady Grey?”

“Certainly.”

Christopher served her tea and took his own coffee to the desk. As he sat, she continued with her questioning, and he continued to answer her with nothing but joy. They took longer than it should because the conversation began to digress to other topics in between technical terms, such as what she enjoyed to read when not slumped with work or study readings. She would, he did not know if only politely or out of true interest, ask him about his preferences as well, and thus they got to know one another even more. And each detail he learned was reason to be deeper and deeper enamored with her.

They went on until it was time for lunch. And he took the opportunity to invite her to have a meal with him.

She accepted, timidly, and they began to head out. He only hoped they would not encounter her sister or anyone else who could ruin the sort of shy date he had managed to arrange with her. He wanted to spend time with her, and only her. But as he opened the door for her, like the gentleman he was, they were faced with sir John.

“Ah! Brandon,” he uttered looking from him to Marianne with a bit of a sly smile. “And Miss Marianne! Lovely to see you!”

Christopher grew nervous of John ruining the step forward he had managed to take. “Marianne is translating a few reports on that project in France for us,” he tried to sound nonchalant and professional.

“Oh yes! Marvelous, marvelous, it is certain to be excellent work.” John had a mind to have lunch with Brandon, but he did not wish to intrude. Mrs. Jennings would love to hear this information, that they seemed to be getting cozier together. “Well, I see you were heading out for lunch already. Don't let me keep you. I just came to… ask you to stop by my office in the afternoon if you have a moment.”

“Will do.”

“Well, lovely to see you, Marianne. I do hope you enjoy working with us and we see more of you around.” Sir John smiled, not able to completely keep the malice out of the curl of his lips. Christopher was about to shoo him away as he looked from John to Marianne’s slightly flushed face, but John bid his goodbyes on his own and left them to head out to lunch.

They walked to one of the restaurants nearby, and shared more conversation on the way. They were quite comfortable with each other, and Christopher was so happy with such intimacy that his fear of running into Willoughby and having something go wrong in some way had escaped him.

The pair arrived at the restaurant and were shown to a table. He pulled out the chair for her, touched her back as he guided her to sit. She felt a chill run down her spine, but brushed it off as only surprise, since she was not expecting that sort of chivalry. _Yes, that is all that is. You were crying for Willoughby not many days ago. You are not the fickle type._

But a little voice at the back of her mind asked if she had not been fickle when jumping in Willoughby's arms in the first place. She had had something click with Christopher, and had ignored that, she could not deny it.

The gentleman unknowingly stirring such feelings in Marianne sat across from her and started to reach for his inner jacket pocket.

“I see you reaching for the credit card. You'll have to let me pay, at least for my share,” she said in a warning yet playful tone. A smile completed her ease in teasing him. This was not such an expensive restaurant, though it was still very good. She could afford a dish. Once he paid her for her translation, she could pay her mother back should she spend too much.

“Absolutely not,” he replied in an equally playful tone. “We will discuss business in this lunch, so the company should pay for it.”

“Oh?” She was taken by surprise and a tiny bit of disappointment filled her. _She_ had no more business to discuss, and some part of her seemed to think, to hope, this was... pleasure.

Her confusion distracted her and he was able to tell the waiter to charge everything to him.

“I was unaware there was still work to discuss,” she said softly, trying to hide her disappointment, which baffled even her.

“Yes. I wish to ask if you were enjoying working with this subject.”

“Well yes, it's very interesting. And I do love to learn about new things. Part of the reason I chose this profession.”

“And should the company have need, would you be interested in working with us again?”

“You'll have to see if you like my work first. But yes.”

“Great.” He smiled. “Well that concludes the business portion of the meal. We should order.”

She looked at him with a dropped jaw in friendly outrage. He had fooled her. He just chuckled as he scanned his menu.

Their friendly chat continued throughout the meal. He couldn't help but gaze at her in admiration as she spoke. He hung on her every word. It possibly looked odd to the other patrons, they probably thought he was her sugar daddy or something of the sort. That impression could be stronger were she dressed casually as she usually did for her classes. But he honestly did not care. He would happily be her sugar daddy if that was the only interest she had in him. At least he would be with her. And perhaps along the way she would find something other worth staying with him for. Fortunately – or maybe unfortunately – she was not that type. The fact she was not... shallow in that way only made him feel more deeply about her. So, he would have to work harder to attempt to earn and deserve her affections. And he would happily – and passionately – do that for the rest of his life if needed, to at least have the joy of sharing one meal with her every once in a while.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! A bit early this time. Let me know if anything seems off. I was sick (and I mean SIIIICK, like projectile vomiting throughout the night sort of sick) a few days ago and I'm still a bit... off. And while editing this I erased half of it (airhead!). I hit the undo button as soon as I realised it, but you never know...
> 
> While I have you here, do you guys have an issue with dirty talk? Hehe. That does not happen in this chapter, I assure you, but I just saw some opinions of my work in facebook groups and (some) people seem to not like my style and the dirty words I use on my other pairing. That's fine, I guess, but now that I have these two in modern times, I was going to have them engage in some of that. I still feel a bit awkward about it though, cause it's the Colonel, you know, so sweet and proper, but I have some of it down already... and wanted to know what you thought.
> 
> Don't be shy to leave comments, folks, especially if you have nice thinks to say! I like them! If you have constructive criticism, I like them as well. Just don't be mean for no reason, thanks.

Christopher Brandon was extremely pleased. He had managed to have a very long pleasant meal with her, just her. And if that wasn't enough to make his week brighter, she had continued to text him. Yes, it was mostly about the translation, an expression, an abbreviation or another she wanted to make sure she got right, but it sometimes continued into something else.

He should just properly invite her on a date, tell her how he felt. But last time he thought there was an opening for that, it was taken so very abruptly from him. So, he could not trust it anymore. He wondered if she would really be interested, and if it wasn't best to at least have the shy friendship they were developing – once again – and not risk ruining that. It all made him very nervous. After what he had gone through with Eliza, he didn't think he would get a second chance in love. Perhaps he didn't even deserve it. He didn't think it was possible for him to feel that way about another for a second time anyway. What did he know? Marianne made much stronger and truer feelings stir in him. And that scared him. The devastation, if it were to sour, would be even greater. And he certainly would not find another that even compared to Marianne. So if he ruined this, he would for sure remain alone for the rest of his life.

It was Friday afternoon and he remembered that it was that evening that the Dashwoods would attend a service for the anniversary of the death of their father and husband. And strangely, he wanted to be there. He had never even met the man, but he wanted to show support to his friends, to Marianne. He hadn't been to church in a long while, ever since his parents passed away. Perhaps returning would even give him some amount of… relief. It could help cement the peace he had managed to find. He wanted to go for himself as much as to support them. To support _her_.

As he finished the day, he headed towards the architecture wing of the company. He knew Elinor had to work the afternoon today instead of the morning, and he knew there was a lot to do on the project her team was assigned, so she probably would be held up and in a hurry to make it to church on time.

Elinor saw him approach as she gathered her things as swiftly as she could.

“Elinor,” he greeted her softly at her desk. He buttoned up his jacket as he stopped next to her.

“Christopher, hi,” she said, flushing due to her hurry. “I don’t think sir John is in anymore.” Why what else would he be headed this way at this hour but to see his partner?

“Oh, I know,” Christopher smiled. “He likes Fridays to be half days whenever possible, so I wager he's been gone for quite some time now. It is not him I wish to speak to.”

“Oh. Well,” she cleared her throat. “I’m in a bit of a hurry,” she finished timidly.

“Yes. Your father’s service, I remember. I was wondering if…” it was his turn to be shy “…it would be too much of an intrusion if I were to join you. To show my support. I…” he sighed as she looked at him with a slightly puzzled look and a tilted head. There was no decent way to explain his motives. He was making a fool of himself already. “I could at least give you a ride. The car is right outside. To ensure you get there on time.”

Elinor smiled as she put on her coat and adjusted it. “I will accept that sweet offer, yes.” They started heading out, side by side, and Christopher felt like less of a fool. But only slightly. “And you are welcome to stay for the service, Christopher. We would all like that very much, I'm sure.”

He looked down at her sweet smile and let his lips curl up a touch as he nodded once.

This was a one-of-a-kind man, Elinor thought. Willing to go honor someone he never knew just because he wanted to be there for Marianne. She was sure he was her friend as well as her mother’s and Margaret's, and would want to show support to them too, but he did not fool her. His main concern was Marianne. He wished to see her and be of use however he could. And this because they supposedly were just friends. He had no obligation. He just really wanted to do it. Elinor hoped Marianne noticed this, his kindness, his worth, and that they could work themselves out. Soon.

They arrived at the Church cutting it close. Elinor found her family – and Edward – at one of the pews up front. They had saved her a seat, next to her boyfriend of course, and were quite surprised in seeing Christopher there, who had followed her timidly. He was carrying his overcoat in front of him almost as a shield. They were surprised, but made no big deal of it. Everyone bid him hello with a smile and squeeze together to make room for him at the end of the pew.

Elinor sat beside Edward and pecked his lips, and then the man reached over Elinor and Marianne to shake Christopher’s hand. As it turns out, the room they had made was to sit Christopher next to none other than his heart’s desire.

The pew was rather small, though it was supposed to fit six. It did. Snugly. And Christopher was thankful for it. His thigh touched hers, his arm touched hers. She was warm and soft, and her closeness brought so much comfort to his heart.

“Hi,” he let out softly after he cleared his throat nervously.

“Hi,” she answered with a flush creeping up her neck and cheeks. There was some silence and then she spoke again, since she was the one closest to him and it felt like it fell on her to graciously thank him on behalf of everyone. But it wasn't just being polite. She did want to thank him. She wanted to talk to him. She _liked_ talking to him.

“It's... very sweet that you came. Thank you.” She cupped her hand over his, which rested on his knee, and that, as silly as it sounded, gave him butterflies in his stomach. He smiled at her.

As she admired his sweet, crooked smile in the silence of the church, only whispers running through the place, Marianne thought of how sweet it actually was. How sweet _he_ actually was. He had helped Elinor when she was a virtual stranger. He helped her now, giving her work, experience to put on her resume. He was a good friend, to Elinor, to all of them now, really. He was here, to honor her father who he had never met.

She wondered briefly if Willoughby would have come. The answer came to her simply: no. Though he had shown much interest in her, heard her talk about any and everything she wanted, he had never really made an effort to _be_ in her life. He wanted her to himself, away from everyone else, it seemed. She had never properly met a friend of his even, nor he hers. They had only met briefly. The only event she had insisted he go to, at Sir John’s, so she could finally show him off, made him extremely uncomfortable and put him in a mood. Or perhaps that had something to do with what she had said to him a few days before. She still didn’t much want to believe he was that loathsome, that he had fooled her so.

Yet, here was this man, Christopher, a mere friend, of relatively little time, lending his support. Very sweet. _You know him for much longer and probably much more than you ever knew Willoughby._

The service started, and Christopher's memory was jogged of all of the rituals of that hour he hadn't participated in almost two decades. The last time he had been to a service was a funeral, a particularly painful one. But this time, right now, it added to the calm he felt by merely being next to Marianne Dashwood.

The whole church started to sing a hymn in unison, the priest making his way down the aisle towards the altar. But Christopher was deaf to the choir of the whole congregation singing along with the official singer at the microphone. All he could hear was the soft song that came from the woman beside him. Her voice was that of an angel, and it made all his hairs stand on end, and at the same time, he felt like he could cry. She sang beautifully. It was travesty that she was not the one singing officially. Each word that melodically slipped her lips made him fall deeper in love with her, if that was even possible.

From that moment on, it became very hard for Christopher to tear his eyes off of her. Every once in a while, as the priest spoke or the word of God was read, he stole glances at Marianne, admired her bright blue eyes, the soft curve of her nose, the plumpness of her lips, the flush on her cheeks. And when there was singing, he would gaze at her lovingly, let her sweet angelic voice wash over him. He hadn’t felt so at peace in a long while, and he started to wonder if this wonderful woman coming into his life so unexpectedly wasn't a gift from God, the source of sheer happiness that would make up for all the sorrow he had suffered.

Being sat so close to her had him slightly tense, afraid to cross a line, to touch her too much and make her uncomfortable. The fact he was so tense made his old shoulder injury hurt. So he subconsciously and innocently stretched his arm on the back of the pew to rest behind Marianne.

He regretted it the moment he realized what he did. It might seem like he was trying to seduce her. And in Church. During a Mass. On her father's anniversary of death. How absolutely disgusting.

But she sat back as she crossed her legs, keeping her eyes on the priest as he spoke the homily. Though she did not exactly snuggle against him as Elinor did with Edward, Marianne looked comfortable as her shoulders touched his forearm on the bench, and the thought of taking his arm back to rest at his side quickly evaded him. He let it rest exactly where it lay.

Then the time came when the deceased were remembered. Henry Dashwood was mentioned and a few kind words spoken of him. Then there was silence, in his honor and that of all the deceased mentioned. The Dashwoods, as expected, cried silently. Margaret leaned on her mother, who embraced her and tried to comfort her while handling her own grief. Elinor buried her face in Edward’s chest as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. And Marianne… sobbed quietly on her own, holding herself.

Christopher's heart felt as if it were being torn from his chest at the sight. He reached in his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a handkerchief to hand to her. She looked up at him quickly and surprised, then back down to the offering, in shame of her puffy red eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she accepted the soft piece of linen and dabbed her eyes and nose.

He then succumbed to what his heart demanded he do. He wrapped an arm around her and rubbed her shoulder gently, trying to provide some comfort. A part of him still feared he was being too bold, though. But she accepted his friendly touched and leaned on his side as she continued to cry into his handkerchief. His heart sang in happiness as he tightened his embrace a fraction.

When Mass came to an end and everyone headed outside the church, there was no more crying. Margaret however was still a bit emotional and hugged Christopher as she bid her goodbye, heatedly thanking him for his presence. Christopher smiled warmly and caressed the child's head once they parted.

As soon as the rest of goodbyes were bid and Christopher's offer to give them a ride home was turned down, Marianne unsuspectedly hugged him tight as she uttered her own gratitude. He was caught off guard, but as his brain finally began to properly function again, he enclosed his arms around her as well. He took the opportunity of being outside of church to silently pray to God this could happen frequently.

There was no exchange of messages on the weekend. Christopher could not think what to say. The few things that did come to him could sound like he was anxious and demanding the work before the day they had agreed upon for her to turn it in. So he remained silent, and as she did not text, he tried to relax and enjoy his weekend quietly as was the norm more often than not. But she crossed his mind every minute while he did something else.

He woke up Monday morning though to a text from her and he could kick himself. She had sent it on Sunday evening. But he, in his attempt of relaxing and not obsessing over her, had left his phone unattended while he sat with a book and then watched a show on TV before going to bed. She merely warned him she had sent the translation to his email, and then, when an hour passed without an answer for him, she apologized for disturbing him on the weekend and wished him a good night. He wasted no time in answering. It did not matter she was probably not up yet.

Marianne felt embarrassment and a certain bit of anguish of having been foolish enough to think he would have been sitting around on a Sunday evening, as she usually did, to answer her message. He was probably out. Or maybe in, but accompanied. That thought seemed to make her heart tighten. He had never taken too long to answer her texts, and she had grown quite used to that. She had half a mind to erase it, but that would seem even more odd. So she apologized and wished him a good night. She should have sent the damned thing in the morning.

However, she woke up to a pleasant surprise. He had answered, really rather early, and apologized for his delay. There was no explanation though. _He owes you no explanation, dunderhead._ But there was an invitation for lunch that day, to sort out her payment. She immediately replied yes, not just because she had many projects in mind for that money, but because she yearned to be in his company.

She met him in front of the company, and after a shy hello, they hugged. It was hard to say who initiated it, since both wanted to be in each other’s arms. They then walked to a restaurant.

Once again he pulled out the chair for her and as he sat across from her and they started going over the menu, he spoke.

“So… I did not know singing was also one of your many talents.”

She looked up at him from the menu inquisitively.

“I heard you in church on Friday. You have a beautiful voice.” His smile was soft as his eyes sparkled.

“Oh. Thank you.” She was blushing. “You are too kind.”

“No, it's the truth. You sing beautifully. Have you taken classes? Is it an interest you pursued? Or are you just… blessed?” He smiled wider.

Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. “I never took lessons, no. I just always sang along to the radio or records my parents played. And I've sang in church before... I recently volunteered again. I wasn't on the rotation Friday because... Well, I was afraid I would be overwhelmed and not do it properly.” She smiled with some abashment.

“Of course. Well, it makes sense for you to sing in church. You do so angelically.” He said it simply and looked down at his menu again, trying to act nonchalant, afraid he might have been excessive in his compliments. Her blush crept up to her ears as a soft “thank you” escaped her lips.

They ordered, and as they waited, he decided to get business out of the way, so she could enjoy her for the rest of the meal, and only her.

“I read a good portion of your translation…”

Her stomach started to churn inside her in nervousness.

“And it is stupendous, as I knew it would be.”

She smiled widely in relief.

“I have already forwarded it to the team in charge of that project, so they can get started right away, and I took the liberty of going to the financial department and having them draw up the papers needed.” He took out some papers from a leather portfolio he had carried to their meeting, and reached across the table to place them in front of her.

“This is a rough draft. You’ll have to go there to provide your information, bank account and whatnot, but if you wish to go over it already...”

She ran her eyes down the paperwork, which were very much ready and proper, just lacking some personal information of hers. When her eyes reached the amount to be paid, her jaw dropped.

“I… I think there is a mistake, this is double the price we had agreed on.” The word count was precise, but he had put down £ 0.16 per word instead of the £ 0.08 she had asked for.

“No mistake. I did my research and that is the going rate.”

“Yes, among top translators in the business… I…”

“You… are just that.”

“Christopher, I’m only a student, this is my first proper job, and it’s… well, you’re a friend, I couldn’t…”

“That price reflects the quality of your work. You should never ask for less than that. That is what you deserve. Or even more. Don't belittle your work just because you are a student. Frankly, we have paid almost that much for far much inferior work.”

She smiled softly, thankful of the compliment.

“And I am touched that you consider me a friend and that you would do me such kindness,” he lowered his tone, “but I’m not paying you personally. The company is paying you. And the business world is ruthless, so don’t be sweet. I know it will be hard because it is in your nature, but...” he smiled. She snickered in return.

“Are you available to go back to the company and sign those papers after lunch? The sooner you do, the sooner they can transfer your money to you.”

“Yes, we can do that. I only have classes at 4:00.”

“Excellent. Now let’s enjoy our lunch.”

They made it back to the office after their meal and pleasant conversation, laughing, bonding. Christopher escorted her to the financial department, a few floors below his office on the top floor, and waited while an employee showed her the form she had to fill out. The employee then announced, nervously because Christopher was there, that he would take his coffee break while she provided the information. He did so because he noticed the boos had no intentions of leaving, and his help would not be needed there. Christopher smiled to the employee and nodded once. He then cleared out of the doorway so he could exit, leaving the room to Marianne and Christopher.

She sat at the computer to fill out the forms, and Christopher leaned on the doorframe and watched her. She glanced up every once in a while, and then smiled timidly to the screen as she typed.

“Don’t you have some skyscrapers to build or something?” She asked sweetly. “Some big clients to schmooze?” She smiled playfully.

“No. I’m fine right here,” he said more charmingly than he intended on, a half and sly smile on his lips, almost conveying the message that there was nothing more important than her, then being with her.

She suddenly stopped typing and bit a nail as she looked at the screen. “See, your hawk eyes on me made me nervous and I think I screwed something up.”

“Let me see,” he said as he stood up properly and made his way around behind her. He then leaned down, and his breath so close to her ear made all the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Christopher reached around her shoulders to type something, his fingers grazing hers, since they still rested on the keyboard, and a strong wish of being lost in his strong arms overtook her. It suddenly felt as if time had slowed down. She had to exert much self-control to not back up into his embrace. His hugs were comforting, so delicious. At least both she had received had been. What would one feel like while he whispered sweet nothings in her ear? What would it feel like to have him nuzzle her neck? And his perfume... It was intoxicating.

Christopher lingered more than necessary, just to feel the sweet scent of her curls, which were down today. But then, he regained control over himself. He was at his place of work. He had hired her to do a job. This could seem… so very wrong.

“There you go,” he said as he stood up straight and returned to the door to watch her. And as he did, looking at her soft curls, her deep blue eyes, her sweet smile as she thanked him and continued to fill out the forms, he wondered when, if ever, he would he be able to hold her, to taste her lips, to have her be his and give himself completely to her in return as well.


End file.
